


Ivory & Steel

by vivilove



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, But he's a sweetie, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gunslinger Jon Snow, Mutual Pining, Romance, Sassy Sansa, Western & Southern Accents, gunfight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-09-24 22:31:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 68,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9790025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: Jon Snow was a loner and the townsfolk all agreed he was a dangerous man.  Sansa Stark has been sent out West to marry Ramsay Bolton, a man she's never met.  When Sansa and Jon meet in town, the attraction is immediate despite the obstacle of a fiancé in the way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I confess I started this based on the images of Kit as a cowboy in his upcoming film but the plot is not related to the film. It's more of a sweet romance with a side of Ramsay take-down.

Jon Snow was used to the stares that came his way when he rode into town. Everyone said he was a dangerous man. A gunslinger, a mercenary, a man that sent other men to their reckoning. Between the quick and the dead, he was the quick. There was some truth in these words but there was more to it than that. He was a deadly shot and he’d been in plenty of fights for a man still a few years shy of 30. He’d been known to work as a gun for hire but he’d spent time driving cattle, mining and other things, too. People thought he was a hard man. He wasn’t sure he saw himself that way though.

He was a drifter and a loner, they said. This was partly true. He _had_ drifted far from his home but he had made a home for himself out on the plain and been settled on the outskirts of High Heart for nearly three years. He was certainly a loner in that he was alone. A lonely man leading a lonely life having come out West after too many disappointments back East, he had only a black horse and his white wolf for company.

He had ridden his horse to town that day with his wolf following at a loping gait and stopped outside Hobb’s saloon. He thought he might have a drink or two in the company of others before he went to the mercantile to buy the necessities for which he’d come to town in the first place. He climbed down off his horse and tied him to the post, dusting off his chaps and removing his gloves. His gun belt hung low on his hips and his Colt Single Actions were visible and loaded, a warning to any intrepid souls that thought of challenging him. He was always ready for a challenge. Whatever people might say about him, they would never call him shy when it came to a fight.

He removed his hat for just a moment to brush the sweat off his brow and ran a hand through his curly, dark hair before he settled it back on his head when he heard a soft, melodious voice. He turned and saw a girl looking at him, a lovely girl standing in front of the mercantile. She was no whore, that was very plain despite the fiery red hair he could see beneath her fancy hat with ribbons all over it. She reminded Jon a bit of fresh wildflowers in a green field on a dewy, spring morning. She was tall and slim with pretty eyes, ivory white skin and pink lips. Her soft blue cotton day dress was very fine looking and matched her eyes. _Some rich man’s wife or daughter_ , he thought. She tugged at her cream-colored gloves and cleared her throat.

“Didn’t you hear me? I asked is that a wolf?” she asked, walking to the edge of the mercantile porch.

Jon looked around just to be certain this angel was speaking to him. She was. _Of course, she was, you fool. Who else has a wolf following him around?_

“Yes, miss,” he answered, tipping his hat to her.

“Did you tame him?” she asked next, stepping off the porch now and moving closer.

There were ear baubles hanging from her ears that swayed when she moved. Jon was fascinated by the perfect white shell of her ears and how it contrasted to the loose tendril of auburn hair that had come loose from her bun and hung in front of one ear.

“I wouldn’t say he’s tame, miss, but I suppose I might’ve tamed him some. He sticks by me anyhow.”

“Could I pet him?” she asked with a grin next.

Her grin seemed as bright as the noonday sun and Jon felt a slight hitch in his chest as he looked around again. Pretty girls like this didn’t come up and talk to him. Loose women and whores…they came up to him all the time not that he had much more than a passing interest in them. But pretty, well-brought-up girls steered clear of Jon Snow. _Doesn’t_ _she know any better? Hasn’t anyone whispered things about me in her ear?_ he thought as he looked at that perfect little ear again with the gold and pearl earring hanging from it.

“He’s no dog, miss,” he said curtly when he realized he’d not answered and she was standing there looking at him curiously. He regretted his tone at once for her smile fell. She stiffened and started to turn and go. “But I reckon if you’re feeling brave enough to try, Ghost might let a pretty girl like you pet him.”

Her smile returned and he found himself smiling back at her. He called his wolf over and knelt beside him. He raised his hand to beckon the girl over to them both. The girl stepped closer and removed one of her gloves. He could tell her hands were soft at a glance. The kind of hands that never did much work. _I’ll bet she plays piano all day and then_ _serves cider at parties to her guests and such_. Ghost sniffed her hand and then let her touch him. She gave a soft gasp and then a sigh as she slid her hands through his white fur. She knelt down in front of Ghost, her blue dress puddling around her in the dusty street. She looked to him again with a radiant smile now. It made her earlier grin seem quite plain.

“You said his name was Ghost?” Jon nodded at her, not quite feeling up to forming words at present with her smiling at him like that. “So warm and soft,” she murmured to herself as she reverently stroked the wolf’s fur. She nuzzled Ghost’s ear. Her face held a look of joyous rapture and Jon felt a tugging sensation in his chest and a distinct stirring in his loins.

“Sansa!” an older woman called out from the storefront. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked sharply.

“Come and see the wolf, Mrs. Mordane,” the girl said… _Sansa_. She turned her attention back to Jon. “She’s my chaperone,” she said with a roll of her eyes that promised mischief despite her ladylike appearance.

The old biddy stalked across the porch and gave Jon a stern look.

“Ma’am,” he said rising to his feet and tipping his hat. She completely ignored him.

“What would your affianced think, girl?”

“Perhaps he’d think that I like wolves, Mrs. Mordane,” she answered mutinously.

“Do you like wolves?” a man’s voice said from the other side of Jon’s horse now.

Jon looked over and saw none other than Ramsay Bolton standing in the street now, not four feet away. The son of the town’s banker he was cloaked in respectability but Jon knew he was anything but respectable. A nasty, mean and cruel man…How could this lovely girl know him? Jon noticed the way the girl shivered when Ramsay walked around the hitching post towards her. He remembered the old lady asking Sansa about her affianced. _Surely, she ain’t engaged to him?_

“Thank you for letting me pet your wolf,” she said giving him a small smile as she turned to go.

“You’re welcome, miss,” he said with a nod.

“Come along, Sansa,” her chaperone said imperiously giving Jon another rake with her eyes before leading Sansa into the store.

“Don’t see you in town often, Snow,” Ramsay said with a smirk as the ladies entered the shop. “If you’ve come for a drink and a girl, the saloon’s that way,” he added, pointing it out with his finger and a wink. He stepped up on the porch before looking back down at him and saying, “Stay away from my intended, Snow. You may be quick with that gun but you’re only one man.”

The beautiful girl…Sansa…was already inside the store but Jon looked over Ramsay’s shoulder and saw her looking out at them.

“She came up to me, Bolton. Why don’t you go on about your business and I’ll go about mine?”

Ramsay looked over his shoulder and saw her watching them. His eyes glittered with something Jon didn’t like.

“Just remember the way of things here, Snow,” he said before he turned and headed into the store after her.

And, Jon wondered if the lovely girl might be better off with one less fiancé in her life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon learns some things about the beautiful girl he met in town and Sansa thinks about the handsome stranger she met. Later, they meet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up longer than originally intended but I decided not to try and split it up.

“Well, look who came to see me,” Hobb said from the bar with a grin.

Jon headed over and leaned against the bar while Hobb pulled out a glass and wiped it down. Hobb’s saloon was the nicest in town and generally the most peaceful place a man could buy a drink. Jon could count on one hand the number of folks that were friendly towards him in town, he wouldn’t even need all his fingers in fact, but Hobb was one of them for some reason. Thus, it was the only such establishment Jon ever visited.

There was a card game going at one of the tables. The faro dealer, Bronn, was shuffling the cards and yapping away to a couple of farmers new to town. His friendly, cockney accent, quick wit and quicker hands seemed to hypnotize many would-be gamblers into making foolish mistakes. But if anyone took exception to the House’s good luck, Bronn also had a persuader on his hip to convince a man that he’d be wiser to not fret over his lost money for too long.

“You leave that beast of yours outside, Snow?” Hobb asked.

“Yeah, he’s out front,” Jon said laying his coin down on the bar.

Part of the reason Jon didn’t like coming to town too often was Ghost. His wolf was his best friend in truth and they’d been together for several years now, ever since he’d found him as a half-starved pup abandoned by his mother _...just like me_. Jon had been around 20 then and had taken the wolf pup in to raise. But he hadn’t lied to the girl about not knowing if he was truly tame. _You can’t really tame a wild thing_.

Ghost was loyal though and followed him around a good deal, much like a dog would. But folks in town were scared of the wolf and there had been none-too-subtle threats made. Jon didn’t want anyone taking a shot at Ghost and so he worried when the wolf would follow him into High Heart. He wasn’t welcome most places so Jon never lingered anywhere in town too long.

“I saw you ride past,” Hobb said as he sat the glass down and poured. Jon smiled to himself and waited for Hobb to speak again. Hobb loved a bit of gossip and Jon could just about figure what was going to come out of the man’s mouth next. “What were you doing talking to that pretty girl, Snow?”

“Now, how would you know I’d talked to any pretty girls, Hobb? I just walked in here and I thought you said your place had all the prettiest girls in town.”

“I seen you from the window, didn’t I? A man can look out his own window I reckon and notice things on a slow afternoon. Besides, my place don’t hold no ladies like that one.”

“No, it don’t,” Jon agreed at once.

“Now, don’t be slighting my doves…even if they is a bit soiled. They may not hold up so well compared to Miss Stark but I seem to recall you like Ros and Shae pretty well.”

Jon nodded and sipped his drink. “I suppose I do,” he answered looking over his shoulder where he could hear Shae singing while she wiped down some empty tables. “Miss Stark, you say? I’ve never seen her before,” he said looking back at the saloon owner. “Do you know anything about her?”

“She comes from back East…Virginia, I think. Her daddy died few years back and the family fell into debt, I heard.”

“You seem to hear everything, Hobb.”

Hobb ignored that and continued his yarn.  “Her mama’s a Yankee from New York, I think, and some friend of hers arranged a marriage for her girl with that Bolton jackass. She arrived on the train about a week ago with some old woman to watch over her until they can decide if they suit each other.”

“I’m sure she suits him but I’d be surprised if the feeling was mutual,” Jon said, surprised that it mattered so much to him. Then he latched on to the part of the story he really didn’t like. “You mean to tell me her mama sold her to the Boltons?”

“She ain’t sold. It’s a free country. She don’t have to accept him,” Hobb shrugged. “And, it was her mama’s friend that arranged it.”

“Why would she send her daughter out here like that though?! That girl can’t be more than twenty. She’d have to figure the girl’s going to go along and marry him being sent this far from home!”

He could see Hobb giving him an appraising look. Jon looked down at his drink and tried to control his breathing. He knew he’d got loud and angry sounding just then. _Christ_ _Almighty, cool off. What difference does any of this make to you?_ He could practically feel the eyes turning to look at him.

“S’everything alright, mate?” Bronn called over to Hobb.

Hobb nodded to the man and poured Jon a second shot before he asked, “You ain’t thinking of sparkin’ Ramsay’s girl, are you, Snow?”

Jon forced a laugh to show none of it mattered one bit to him and said, “Would I ever do that?”

The older man smiled, the skepticism plain in his eyes, and said, “Not if you’ve got any sense, boy.”

 

* * *

 

Much as she might like to, Sansa couldn’t very well ignore Ramsay’s offered arm as they left the church on Sunday behind his father and Mrs. Mordane. She held on lightly as she could though and kept her distance. She was still trying to figure a way out of this mess she found herself in from Mr. Baelish’s big ideas and her mama’s belief that a husband was what Sansa needed most. But, she wasn’t ready to let Ramsay think she’d made up her mind about him. Her heart and mind were screaming no but she knew she’d end up saying yes. _It’s not as if you’ve got a plethora of options_ , Sansa thought sadly, remembering the desperation in her mama’s voice when she’d mentioned the possible marriage arrangement.

She waved to Myrcella Baratheon who she’d met two days earlier as Ramsay stopped them to talk with Reverend Poole. Sansa released his arm as soon as it was halfway decent to do so and moved closer to Mrs. Mordane. The reverend’s brimstone rant had been a different kind of sermon than any Sansa had ever heard at the Episcopal church she’d attended back in Richmond though he was polite enough now.

It had been hot sitting in the little clapboard church on the August morning and she’d felt the sweat trickling down her lower back and between her breasts in her cream-colored dress with the maroon stripes. Her cheeks were flushed and she’d been busily fanning herself until Mrs. Mordane had admonished her to stop.

_Am I more pious if I sweat? Well, he does keep going on about hellfire. I suppose he wants to sweat the sin out of us all._

Sansa’s mind started to wander off at that point during the service. She’d wondered if she’d have a little freedom this day…or ever. A chance to go read a book or ride the mare Mr. Bolton had said she could use or take a solitary walk even without somebody questioning her, asking her what she was about or where she was headed. She’d thought of things back home after that. She wondered how her mother and younger brother were faring without her there.

_Oh, Mama…I wish you could be here. I’m not so sure you’d want this for me if you could see him for yourself. Here we sit in a pew at church; Ramsay, Mr. Bolton, Mrs. Mordane and me…the twisted, the cold-hearted, the self-righteous and the lost girl. We sound like the makings of a proverb of our own. And I ain’t the least bit interested in church this morning. Bran, I wish I could sit by your side and read you your favorite stories over and over this morning instead of being here._

Her mind drifted off to a more recent memory. She thought of the white wolf and the handsome stranger she’d met the day before and how Ramsay hadn’t said nothing in the mercantile afterwards but how his eyes had been watching her. He’d looked like a hawk with its eye on a mouse the rest of the day.  And she was the mouse.

Sansa had liked the wolf. His soft white fur and red eyes seemed to stir a place in her soul that spoke with her daddy’s voice though she couldn’t say why. She’d liked the man. His voice was low but there was a gentleness to it that made her want to hear him talk some more. She probably shouldn’t be but there was something about those soft and solemn eyes of his that had her thinking about him here in church. She started squirming a bit in the pew then and wanted to start fanning herself again. _You are a lost girl,_ _Sansa. Well, I wouldn’t mind being found by him_ , she thought as she felt a different kind of heat building inside of her.

Reverend Poole had cleared his throat loudly at that point and Sansa’s head jerked up to find his eyes on her. She’d stilled her squirming then and there. She slid an attentive but blank expression on her face for the rest of the service.

And now, after the service, Sansa stood there making small talk with the reverend, his daughter, Ramsay and his father wishing that she could go someplace quiet. Miss Baratheon came over and joined their group to talk a bit. Sansa watched Ramsay chatting with the reverend and the ladies. _You’re good at pretending to be different than you are_ _but I ain’t fooled_. Sansa’s attention was drawn back to Myrcella who was inviting her and Miss Poole to go riding on Tuesday.

“We could ride to the creek,” Miss Baratheon said. “It’s pretty there, Miss Stark. We could wade in the water if you like.”

“Just us, you mean?” Sansa asked. Myrcella nodded.

“I’ll go if Pa don’t object,” Miss Poole said with a bow towards her father.

“I’d be happy to go with you,” Sansa answered at once without waiting for anyone’s objection or approval. Mrs. Mordane gave a sniff but Ramsay and his father only said she could go riding with the other girls if she liked. _It’d be nice to go somewhere without Ramsay or his boys following me around_.

 

* * *

 

 

The meeting by the creek was not intentional. He had not planned for it to happen at all. But afterwards Jon was sure glad it did happen. He had been back to town again for something he’d forgotten a few days earlier.

 _‘I was needing some sugar,’_ he’d told Gage at the mercantile when the man expressed his surprised at seeing him back again.

 _‘Sugar, eh? You sure I got the kind of sugar you looking for, Snow?_ ’ the man asked with a wink.

 _‘I just needed a bit of sugar, mister,’_ Jon had answered with a grin.

In truth, he had invented a reason to come back into town. He had little use for sugar. He drank his coffee black. The beans and greens, pork and beef that he ate most of the time didn’t call for sugar. Maybe he liked a touch in his cornbread. He liked a hint of sweetness in it. _I’d like her sweetness_ , he thought. _Maybe it’s her sugar I was wanting to_ _find_.

He knew he’d spent too much time thinking on her the past few days and finally couldn’t stand the temptation to possibly see her again any longer. Or, maybe it might be time to go and lay with Ros or Shae again at Hobb’s. As he rode into town he told himself that if he didn’t see her, he’d go take a turn with one of them. He told himself that was probably what he needed to clear his head of the beautiful girl named Sansa. _It’s been a good long while. That’s probably all this is_.

He’d liked the way she’d come up and talked to him, the way she didn’t seem afraid of him or think him beneath her notice. She’d liked the wolf. She wasn’t afraid of Ghost. He’d never seen anyone take to Ghost like that before besides himself. He’d liked the sparkle in her eyes when she’d sighed and stroked Ghost’s fur. He liked those big, blue eyes and those soft, delicate hands of hers, too. _It’d be nice to have those eyes looking at me and her hands touching me like she’d touched Ghost_.

Jon didn’t see her in town but he didn’t go to Hobb’s either. He knew the old man would be asking questions about why he was back in town again so soon. If he’d went with one of Hobb’s girls, that would’ve answered the question but he decided he didn’t feel like going with one of those girls. Not when there was a red-haired beauty in town with ivory white skin and a smile that made his chest hurt, a girl that had taken over his waking thoughts as well as his dreams.

So, he’d bought his sack of sugar and rode down towards the little silver mining town’s bank, hoping that perhaps she’d be there. He’d seen Ramsay’s father, Roose, standing in the doorway of the bank. He’d nodded to the older man and gotten a cold stare in return. He passed the jail and saw the sheriff sitting out front. Dondarrion tipped his hat to Jon but watched him closely like always.

“Come on, Ghost,” Jon said as he turned to head back out of town again. He was disappointed not to see her but told himself it was probably best. _You’re no good for a girl like_ _that anyway._

 

The August day was hot and Jon decided to visit the creek in the low hills. It was not too far out of town but far enough for a bit of privacy most of the time. He hobbled his horse under a tree near the water’s edge and let him drink while he took off his gun belt, boots, hat and clothes, save his skivvies, and waded out into the water. It was a good sized creek, nearly forty feet from one bank to the other at the widest part. The water was not deep though, midway up his chest at the deepest part. It was cool and pleasant in the summer heat. There were birds chirping in the bushes and the sun was shining down on him as he floated and swam a little. There were pretty flowers near the water’s edge and Jon thought that maybe she’d like it here. It was a peaceful kind of place that reminded him a bit of where he came from back in the Appalachians on the border of North Carolina and Tennessee.

He was just about to head back to the creek bank when he heard horses and voices. _How many?_ he thought with some anxiety as he looked over towards his pile of clothes with his guns sitting on top, quite far off at the moment. The newcomers were closer to him than his horse and things further up the creek. _I must’ve floated a good ways_.

He soon realized that he was only hearing women’s voices though and it was now his britches he was most wishing were within arm’s reach. It sounded like there were no more than three of them. They had led their horses to drink from the creek but the foliage was blocking his view at present. Jon was in the deepest part of the creek towards the far side from them and where his horse and clothes waited. Ghost had wandered off a while ago looking for rabbits no doubt. He couldn’t wade back to the other side without being spotted so he thought he’d stay put. _No need to give the women a fright. They might tell their men and it’d only lead to trouble_. Then, when he realized who exactly was there, he knew he would definitely be staying put.

“So, do you like it here in High Heart, Miss Stark?” a girl was asking.

“No,” she said a bit sadly. “I’m sorry to say that excepting you all’s company, I can’t say as I do. He’s nothing like I’d hoped and I don’t relish the prospect of marrying him.”

Jon knew that sweet voice at once and to hear that she was not happy made something twist in his gut.

“Are you going back home then?” another girl asked.

“No, I can’t…I promised Mama I’d go through with it if he was willing. He’s willing so here I am.”

“You’ll live in a fine house at least,” the first girl said.

“I lived in a fine house in Richmond. Didn’t make it a happy kind of place…least not once Daddy died.”

Jon recognized the first girl now. It was Jeyne Poole, the minister’s daughter. He moved just enough to recognize the golden locks of the other girl, Myrcella Baratheon, the daughter of the mayor.

“Well, I hope that you’ll be happy with Mr. Bolton. Most girls would be, I’d think,” Miss Poole said primly. “His daddy’s well off and he’s handsome in a way.”

“You’re welcome to marry him if you like, Miss Poole,” Sansa said with a laugh.

Jon moved a bit more to get a better look at her. Once he had a good view of her through the bushes, he felt that tightness in his chest and heat spreading through his loins again. She was holding her hat in her hand and her hair was down. He’d never seen that particular shade of red hair in his life. Ygritte had had red hair but it was always a mess and usually buried under her hat. Sansa’s hair was hanging down her back in soft waves. With the sun upon it, it looked like steel glowing red before it’s worked by a blacksmith.

Miss Poole didn’t seem so pleased by Sansa’s response about Ramsay and said she’d rather not bathe today after all.

“Suit yourself,” Sansa said as she began to take off her dark blue jacket. Miss Poole turned her horse back towards town and Jon saw Miss Baratheon looking uncertain. “Go on with her if you like, Cella. I’ll be fine here.”

“Are you sure, Sansa?”

“I’m sure.”

The other girl rode off after Miss Poole and Jon’s mouth had went dry as he watched Sansa sit down on a rock and start unlacing her boots. Once she had her boots off, he saw a flash of creamy white thighs when she pulled off her stockings. His eyes widened and he was feeling a definite stirring as she unbuttoned her blouse and took it off next. Then, she let her skirt fall to the ground. She removed her bustle and unhooked her corset next, laying everything down in a neat little pile on the bank by her mare. When she was down to her chemise and bloomers she waded out into the water.

Jon edged farther toward the far bank, hiding in some queen’s wreath dangling down in the water that was hanging off a tree growing right on the edge of the creek. _What are_ _you doing, you degenerate? Are you really going to hide here watching her like some peeping tom? I reckon I am_ , he thought next as she came closer to the center of the creek.

She was grinning to herself before she ducked down in the creek with a little squeal. She stood back up giggling aloud as the water ran down her body. The cotton of her chemise and bloomers was soaked and clinging to her every curve. Most of her hair was wet. It looked almost crimson now. She was standing no more than 20 feet from where he hid at the edge. _You ought to say something. It ain’t right to be watching her like this_.

He couldn’t think of nothing to say though as he could see her perfectly round ass through her bloomers. And when she turned back his direction, he could see the hint of a thatch of hair between her legs… _red like the hair on her head_ …and the soft, round curve of her teats with her nipples pebbled and straining out against her chemise. His cock was definitely hard now and he tried to think of something else and stop staring at her. He didn’t have any success at that.

Just then Sansa’s mare whickered and Jon’s horse answered with a loud snort. She gasped and ducked back down in the water till it was up to her neck. He saw her craning that lovely, long neck out of the water and, when she spotted his stallion further up the creek from her mare, she started looking all around.

“Somebody there?” she called anxiously.

Jon stayed still behind his flowering vines, fearing to even look at her as though his eyes on her might draw her attention to him and his hiding place. _Come out now…come out_ _and apologize and tell her you don’t mean her no harm_. But before he could utter the words or make a move she started laughing.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said. “You needing to bathe, too? You can come and join me if you like. Where’s your friend?”

Jon’s eyes went wide. _Surely to God, she ain’t talking to me!_ She wasn’t. He peeked out and saw Ghost standing on the bank not ten paces from where he hid with blood on his muzzle and his red eyes gleaming in the shade of the trees. He felt her eyes turn towards him just a moment too late.

“You had enough of a look yet, wolf man?” she asked bemusedly. Jon instinctively darted back and stumbled over a hidden stone in the water and went down with a great splash. She had her head thrown back with laughter when he came sputtering back up the surface. “You going hide up under them vines all day or come out here and talk to me?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some jonsa banter at the creek and afterwards on the way back to town as their attraction grows.

“I reckon it’s best I stay right here, miss,” he said uncomfortably. _Some hard man you are, Snow. You’re scared of a girl in her underthings. Yeah well, part of me is hard right_ _now_.

“Why? Easier to peek at ladies that way?” she asked over her shoulder as she moved a little further away.

“No! I weren’t here to peek at you! I was here ‘fore you came,” he said hotly. She stopped moving and grinned at his flash of temper. He was glad for that. He was so tired of folks thinking the worst of him without ever knowing him at all. It had its uses but it got tiresome, too.

She turned back towards him and asked, “Was you a’ bathing, too?”

“Yes,” he said moving out from the vines and into the open water closer to her. “It’s so blame hot and I hate feeling dusty all the time. Besides, it’s pretty here and I rarely see folks from town when I come,” he finished quietly.

“Oh…well, I’m sorry to interrupt you then,” she said and Jon wanted to tell her that he didn’t mind the interruption. He did not mind it one bit as he moved a little closer, his eyes never leaving her. “So, who leaves first?” she asked as she sank down lower in the water and crossed her arms over her chest.

He realized too late he’d been caught staring a bit intently in that direction and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly for a moment trying to figure out what she’d said last. “What’s that, miss?”

“Who leaves first? Do I get out first and trust you not to look at me while I get dressed and ride off or do you get out first and trust me not to look at you? Not that I’m promising I won’t peek,” she said as she shot a wicked little smile at him.

 _Holy hell_. “You shouldn’t talk like that…not to a man you don’t know. You shouldn’t talk like that to me anyhow.”

“Why? What’s wrong with you?” she asked with her head tilted to the side.

“I’m sure your friends would tell you if you asked ‘em,” he said sourly, knowing what anyone would say if they saw her here with him like this. She scooted just a bit further away and Jon felt a tug to follow but told himself to stay still. _You gonna chase her all the way across the creek? Maybe I’d like to_ …

“Well, I could ask them about the stranger with the wolf but maybe I’d rather make up my own mind. And maybe you could tell me your name,” she said with that devilish little grin again.

“It’s Jon…Jon Snow.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jon…Jon Snow. I’m Sansa…”

“Sansa Stark…I learned your name the other day,” he said with a smile.

“Alright then…so, now that we’re acquainted, Jon Snow, maybe you can answer my question about who leaves first.”

“Uh, I can leave first if you like…or you can. It don’t matter. I won’t look at you.”

“No more than you already have, you mean,” she said with an arched brow and narrowed eyes. Her lips were pursed but Jon couldn’t tell if it was more from disbelief or amusement.

“Uh…” He could feel the blush forming on his cheeks and he ducked his head, grinning down at the water before raising his eyes back up to her. He was pleased to see her blush in return now and he gave her a wider smile. But her next statement had him back to feeling embarrassed.

“I think it’s only fair for you to get out first considering. I can have my look at you then if I choose, Jon Snow.” Those lips were definitely pursed in amusement now.

Jon could feel the heat creeping back into his cheeks again. He didn’t know what to say to that…or what to say regardless. He slowly moved past her towards the bank where he’d left his things and climbed out of the water, keeping a hand over his manhood that was raised like a tentpole at present. His skivvies were sagging low ‘round back from the water and he had to hitch them up with his other hand. He quickly yanked on his britches. He was reaching for his shirt when he dared to look back at her. She was watching him, bold as brass, and snickering behind her hand. She was still up to her neck in the water but she was keeping her eyes trained on him like she was getting ready to paint his portrait.

“You had enough of a look yet?” he called with a chuckle as he was buttoning up his shirt and grabbing his vest.

“Maybe,” she answered with a grin. “Serves you right for hiding out here to peek at girls.”

“I was here first and I weren’t here to peek at girls!” he shouted crossly before he realized she was teasing him and he couldn’t help but laugh.

As he was pulling his boots back on, Ghost decided that it must be time to head home because he jumped into the creek and swam right past Sansa. She laughed and tried to get him to come over to her but he climbed out on the bank and shook himself dry…right by Sansa’s horse. The mare gave a terrified whinny and started to rear. Ghost wasn’t much concerned by horses and their nonsense. They were always frightened of him except for his own horse and he just trotted over to Jon. But Sansa had not tethered the horse well and it was soon free of the half-hearted knot she’d made around one of the saplings at the creek’s edge.

“No! No! No!” Sansa shouted as she waded to the water’s edge. It was too late. The mare was already off and running back towards town. “Now what am I gonna do?! Your wolf scared off my horse!”

Jon was trying not to smile too broadly or laugh at the sight before him now. Her lovely face was all flushed with vexation that he found quite becoming. And in her pique, she’d forgotten her modesty and she was standing on the bank looking as close to naked as possible without being naked. She was a heavenly vision for certain. The sun was shining on all that red hair and highlighting the parts of her that the cotton underthings weren’t already clinging to.

“I’ll give you a ride back to town, miss,” he said as he put his hat on and tried to keep a straight face.

 

* * *

 

His back was warm and well-muscled and he smelled good…at least to her. _Like leather and horse…and flowers? Must’ve been the vines_. Sansa was tucked up behind him on his stallion with Ghost following them. Her hair was wet and her clothes were a bit too but she was dressed again. _I can only hope Mrs. Mordane don’t see me with him…or Ramsay_.

Since they’d met in town a few days ago, Mrs. Mordane had told her to stay away from men like him. She’d said Sansa should stay away from any men except her intended or the older, respectable gentlemen of the town to whom she’d been introduced.

_‘Scoundrels like him are trouble, girl. If you’re smart, you’ll steer clear of him.’_

Sansa was tired of being told what to think though. Tired of people telling her what smart girls did. She was smart, she didn’t need to be told what to think. She didn’t think he seemed like a scoundrel at all. He seemed nice enough to her.

Her intended on the other hand…Ramsay Bolton had given her the chills from the moment he stepped up to her at the train station. His face was carrying a sunny smile but there was a curious malignance to his pale eyes. His voice had been deep and soft and yet there was a menacing sort of pitch to it. Sansa had since seen him when he wasn’t wearing a smile and when his voice was not so soft. She was frightened by what she’d seen of him in truth. He’d not harmed her or spoken to her in a hateful way but she was glad she wasn’t a servant in the Boltons household. She remembered what her daddy had told her once. That the way a man treated those that couldn’t answer back was usually a good indication of the kind of man he was.

 _‘He’s a perfectly nice gentleman, I hear,’_ Mr. Baelish had told mama _._

_Perfectly nice, my foot. Him and his friends scare the dickens out of me._

He’d introduced her to his ‘boys’ a couple of days after she’d arrived. Mr. Karstark and Mr. Umber were two peas in a pod; they might consider themselves gentlemen but they were gruff men with little use for women beyond the obvious. Ramsay’s other ‘boys’ though…Damon Dance-for-Me, Sour Alyn and Ben Bones were not the kind of men Sansa had imagined banker’s sons spending time with. Each one was more frightening than the last it seemed. They were dedicated to Ramsay in some strange way, like a pack of hounds.

But Jon Snow didn’t frighten her. He seemed kind and gentle to her despite the six-shooters he wore and the wolf. He reminded her of the heroes from the dime-novels she’d read on her way out west. Her mother had always said she was too romantic but Sansa and Bran had always loved stories. She’d read one series in particular that she’d fallen in love with about a man dressed in black. In each story the townsfolk were always afraid of him and thought he was a villain when in truth he was a hero. He’d turn up in town, a stranger, to put down some lawless behavior. The true villain in those stories she’d read always turned out to be the card sharper or the travelling salesman… _or the banker’s son_.

She shivered a bit despite the heat and wrapped her arms more securely around his waist. She heard him give a slight grunt.

“Too tight?” she asked.

“No, miss.”

“You can call me Sansa,” she said.

“Alright, Miss Sansa.”

She smiled at his courtesy and put her cheek against his shoulder. She could feel his muscles moving as the horse moved. She thought about all those muscles she’d seen as she watched him climb out of the water and hurriedly dress. She’d never seen a man so close to naked before but she suspected not all men were as nice to look upon as him. He had a finely made body. She would’ve liked a longer look.

He didn’t talk much but Sansa had a feeling that he rarely talked much. So, she did most of the talking on the way back to town. She told him about Richmond and her Mama. She told him about her older brother, Robb, going off to New York for work after Daddy died and getting killed in a train accident. And, she told him about Bran, her little brother that had been crippled by some disease when he was two and how that had broken Mama and Daddy’s hearts. She told him about Daddy’s business problems that put them in debt. She told him about Mr. Baelish coming to stay with Mama after Daddy died. But she didn’t tell him how Mr. Baelish had told her she was pretty and kissed her one night after she turned 16. She talked a good deal about her daddy who had been dead nearly six years now and how happy they’d been before then.

When she finally felt like she’d talked his ear off, she grew quiet. It was then that he finally said something.

“Why’re you gonna marry Ramsay, Miss Sansa?” he asked. He was still holding the reins and facing forwards but he’d turned his head back towards her just a bit and his hair brushed against her cheek.

“There’s debts Mama owes and my brother needs to see the doctor and…cause I told Mama I would.”

“Cause of money? That ain’t no reason for you to have to marry him. I know it probably ain’t my place to say this but you don’t know him. He’s not a nice feller. I heard you talking with them other girls. Seems like you don’t wanna marry him. So, why are you?”

“Mr. Baelish told Mama it’d help. He said Roose Bolton would pay our debts off. He came from Richmond. Mr. Bolton’s a rich man out here but he wants to come back East, back to Richmond. He double-crossed my daddy years ago. They were fixin’ to do some business deal together and he cheated.”

“All the more reason…”

“Folks in Richmond found out and didn’t want the Bolton’s around anymore. So, he come out here 15 years ago. Done rather well for himself. But now he wants to go back East. Seems him and Mr. Baelish thinks that if his son marries Ned Stark’s daughter, folks in Richmond will accept him with open arms again.”

“That don’t seem like it would motivate you much to do them any favors.”

“Maybe I don’t plan on doing them any favors,” she said coldly. “He may regret making me his wife as much as I’ll regret marrying him.”

He stopped the horse and twisted around to look at her. “Are you saying…”

“I’m not saying anything,” she said sharply. “I may not wanna marry him but my brother comes first…and mama.” She felt herself getting teary then and was angry at herself. _Don’t you sit here crying like a baby, Sansa Stark. What good have tears ever done you?_ She wiped at her eyes hastily and said, “I need to do what I can to help my family. Even if he means marrying a man I don’t care for.”

He looked upset at that but only said, “You’ve got a good heart, Miss Sansa.” He reached up and touched her cheek with his gloved hand and Sansa saw the wetness on the leather where he’d brushed her tear away.

“Thank you,” she said, not really knowing what else to say to him. _I don’t mind you touching me? I wish you would again? Heavens, Sansa…you can’t say that. Well, I already said_ _plenty today that I probably shouldn’t say_. He was looking at her intently with those dark eyes that made her feel all jittery inside but in a good way. But then he got to looking unsure of things and he turned back around. She put her arms back around him as they started to move again. She didn’t want to talk about Ramsay or Mama or the sorry state of things anymore so she asked, “You gonna come to the bonfire dance on Saturday night?”

“Dance? Uh, no…I don’t come to town all that much and I sure don’t come to the dances them old ladies and the mayor put on at the community hall.”

“You religious or something?”

“Not especially,” he said with a snort.

“You should come.”

“I’m not all that welcome in town…least not by the kind of folks you associate with.”

“You’d be welcomed by me, Jon Snow.”

“How old are you, Miss Sansa?” he asked looking back at her over his shoulder.

“Nineteen. Why?”

“No reason,” he said as he turned back around. “Too young,” he muttered under his breath next.

“Too young for what?”

He didn’t say anything else and Sansa stopped talking, too. She just enjoyed the warmth of his back as she kept her arms wrapped around him tight and the feel of his hair when it would flutter back into her face in the breeze. Right then, she really wished that he wouldn’t take her back to town.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon returns Sansa to town and is conflicted about what to do. High Heart holds a dance.

They had arrived back in town in the early afternoon when Ramsay should’ve still been at the bank with his father. They passed the barbershop and Sansa saw Ramsay’s friends, Ben Bones and Sour Alyn, sitting on the barber’s porch and knew Ramsay would be inside getting his shave. _Waiting outside like dogs for their master_. As soon as Sansa saw the two of them, she knew they’d be telling Ramsay they saw her riding behind Jon Snow on the back of his black horse. She held on tighter to Jon and didn’t say nothing to him about it. _We didn’t do nothing wrong anyway_ , she told herself.

When they reached the Boltons house, out came Mrs. Mordane with a sour expression on her face and her arms crossed. She stood up on the porch huffing and puffing like a steam train heading uphill while Sansa made a point of thanking him for giving her a ride home.

“You gonna be alright?” he asked softly, ignoring Mrs. Mordane and keeping his eyes on her. “I saw Ramsea’s friends looking at you in town there. I don’t want him to…”

“You don’t need to fret over me,” she said with a forced nonchalance. “I’ll be just fine.”

He didn’t look like he believed her. _I’m not sure I believe myself_. He sighed and kind of hung his head a minute before he said, “If you ever…there’s only a couple of men ‘round here I really trust and Hobb down at the saloon is one of them. If you ever needed me, he’d know where to find me.”

“Alright,” she said, trying to show him she appreciated his words even if now was not the time to say more. Mrs. Mordane had lost patience with huffing and puffing on the porch and was coming towards them. _Mr. Bolton wants this marriage to happen. He’ll be wanting Ramsay to behave…at least until we’re wed_. It suddenly struck her that she was probably safer than Jon…for now anyway. “You gonna be alright?” she asked then. “I wouldn’t want them making trouble for you either.”

He smiled at her real sweet then and said, “No need to worry ‘bout me. I’ll be right as rain. They want to start something…well, they’re welcome to try.” He nodded to her and to Mrs. Mordane before he climbed back up on his horse and left.

By the time supper rolled around that night, Sansa wasn’t feeling as brave as she had acted. She was dreading what Ramsay would say to her. Except he didn’t say a thing. He hadn’t said anything about her riding back to town on the back of Jon Snow’s black horse and holding onto him…yet. He talked with her and his father and Mrs. Mordane like everything was high cotton and he’d just had the best day of his life. But Sansa saw that look in his eyes that he was never any good at hiding and knew someday it’d be brought up. The way his lips had twisted into a cruel smile when she told him her horse, the horse Mr. Bolton had loaned her, had run off and Jon Snow had offered to bring her back to town made her more frightened than she cared to admit. She hadn’t mentioned where she’d been or what she’d been doing when the horse ran off. The horse had come back but Sansa suspected she wasn’t going to be offered her again.

And, if Ramsay was quiet, Mrs. Mordane was the exact opposite of that. In the days that followed, she gave Sansa an earful of chastisements and warnings. And, she was busy telling her all manner of things about Jon Snow that she’d learned since they’d arrived; the men he’d supposedly killed… _probably true,_ the robberies, rapes and murders he’d supposedly committed… _probably not true_ , and all the whores he bedded down with at that nasty saloon. Sansa wasn’t sure she wanted to know if that was true or not.

When Saturday arrived though, Sansa dressed with care for the dance. She wore her fanciest dress and had Mrs. Mordane help her arrange her hair. Ramsay was pleased when he saw her and full of flattery. _I didn’t dress up this nice for you_. She knew it was unlikely he’d come but she couldn’t help hoping.

 

* * *

 

 

Jon wasn’t certain what he should do after he left her that day. He knew what he’d like to do. He’d like to ride back to the Boltons house and ask her to come away with him. He’d liked to bring her back to his little homestead and make her his woman…his wife if she’d like that. _What do you know ‘bout being a husband? Nothing, that’s what. What have_ _you got to offer her really? Not all that much. Not near as much as a lady like her deserves_ , her thought sadly.

So, he went to Hobb’s. Ros came up and put an arm around his waist, asking where he’d been hiding and if he’d come to see her. He smiled but shook his head at her before giving Hobb a look. He took the hint and told her to go see about some other men that were asking for her. He stood at the bar sipping his liquor, wondering why his chest felt all achy and trying to figure out how far gone he really was here. _Pretty far gone, I’m afraid_.

He was distracted from his pondering shortly afterwards when the closest thing he had to a neighbor came in the place. Tormund was a Norwegian immigrant that had traveled to the West years ago seeking a place for his people to live and worship as they chose. Unfortunately, the smallpox had killed off a good number of them, including Tormund’s wife, and now he lived almost as solitary a life as Jon did. Regardless, Tormund had helped Jon build his house and barn when he’d come to High Heart. His own place was about three miles away which was closer than anyone else’s anyway. There was a friendship of sorts there even if they both preferred to leave each other be for the most part.

“Snow!” Tormund said, slapping him so hard on the back Jon started choking on his drink. “I’ve not seen you in a long time.”

“Hey, Tormund,” he sputtered, as he tried to suck air into his lungs again, “how’re you?”

“Good…things are good.”

Hobb came over to pour a drink for Tormund and Jon finally got around to asking Hobb about sending word to him if Sansa should ever come seeking him…if she wanted some help or needed anything.

“I thought you was smarter than that, boy,” Hobb said with a concerned look.

“Apparently not.”

Tormund asked what they were talking about and was soon informed by Hobb all about Miss Stark and her being sent out to marry Ramsay Bolton. Tormund shook his head at that. But when Jon admitted that he liked her, that he liked her so much he’d like to bring her home to keep, Tormund had nearly busted a gut laughing at him.

“You going to steal a girl? A girl from that Bolton ass, Snow?” Tormund asked before laughing some more and saying something in Norwegian to himself. “Du er gal…you’ve got balls,” he said then, gesturing as if Jon didn’t know what he meant.

“What’s so funny?” Bronn asked, coming over from his gaming table. Jon rolled his eyes and huffed to himself as Tormund started telling him…and laughing some more. “Can’t say as I blame you, mate. Sweet little miss like her marrying that twat? A fuckin’ shame, that is,” Bronn said with a sympathetic shake of his head.

“Alright already!” Jon said throwing down his coin for the drink. “I think it’s time I get Ghost home so y’all can come up with somethin’ better to discuss,” he finished, eager to escape their amusement over him liking Miss Stark. He was almost to the door when he turned back towards Hobb and asked, “When do them dances start anyway? Like the bonfire dance they’re putting on Saturday?”

“Dusk…they usually start around dusk,” Hobb answered giving him a grin. “You takin’ a sudden interest in dancin’, Snow?”

“Nah…I’s just curious is all,” he said with a wink.

 

* * *

 

 

 _Ain’t he ever gonna come in?_ Sansa thought as she looked forlornly out the window of the hall at the solitary figure on the porch with the wolf at his side.

It was pouring outside, a real toad strangler. A not so common occurrence in High Heart and plenty of folks were glad of the rain but Sansa couldn’t help wishing that it wasn’t raining tonight. He had come to the dance. She had been surprised that he had come but over the moon when she saw him. Maybe she shouldn’t have been but she was.

She’d seen him arrive a little after it got started. And even if he was just hanging around the fringe of the crowd with Ghost watching things, that was fine by her. He’d come…and she hoped he’d come because of her.

Ramsay had asked her to dance when he spotted Jon Snow there and Sansa would be forever grateful to Myrcella for coming up to them right then and asking Sansa some things, just nonsense really, that allowed her to politely decline for the time being. Ramsay’s boys had shown up soon after and he was busy talking with them and not too concerned with Sansa it seemed. She could almost feel Jon’s eyes on her as she continued talking to Cella. She’d sneak a look ever so often and spy him watching her through the flames that made Ghost’s red eyes reflect an almost hellish red light now.

But now the fire was doused from the rains that had arrived soon after Jon had. The dance was supposed to be held outside around the bonfire but now there wasn’t a fire and everyone had moved into the community hall. _Almost everyone_.

The hall wasn’t all that big and, with it raining, the community hall was full to bursting with townsfolk drinking cider and talking…not dancing. And he wasn’t coming in. He was standing outside on the porch alone excepting his wolf.

Sansa looked around the crowd. Ramsay was talking with his father and the mayor. His boys had went outside a while ago and she’d heard gunshots from further on down the street. The sheriff had left soon after to go chase off ‘those wretched fools’ as he’d called them. Sansa saw Cella playing the piano and spied Miss Poole giving her dirty looks. _What’d I do to you? I don’t want Ramsay. Take him from me…I won’t wish him mine again_.

Miss Mordane was busy chattering with some of the older women and wasn’t paying her no mind. _It’s probably lonely out there. I wonder if he’d like a little company and maybe a_ _bit of cider_. Sansa walked over to the table where the cider was and asked the girl serving if she could borrow her tray.

 

* * *

 

 

Jon stood on the porch, holding his hat and cursing himself for coming here tonight. _I could be home. I could be lying in bed, listening to the rain on the roof instead of standing_ _here soaked like a fool. What’d you think? That you was gonna get to dance with her? You can’t even dance worth a dime._

The door opened and he turned to see her coming out on the porch balancing a little tray in one hand with two glasses on it.

“Hey there,” she said with a grin.

“Hey there,” he said wondering why her and God seemed to want to tempt him so much if he couldn’t ever have her.

“You want some cider?”

“Do I want some cider?” he repeated a bit absently as he stared at her in her cornflower blue dress with the little white flowers on it and all the ruffles on the sleeves. She wasn’t wearing a hat tonight. Her hair was up in some fancy braided design with little sprigs of flowers tucked in it.

“It’s good.”

“I’ll bet it’s good,” he said, laughing under his breath. _Of course, she’d bring you cider_.

“Am I hard to hear?” she asked next.

“No…” he answered, perplexed by the question.

“Then why do you keep repeating me?”

“Oh…um, I guess I’m just surprised to see you out here bringing me cider, Miss Sansa.”

She handed him a glass and set the tray down on the railing before she took her own glass and took a sip. He took his own sip and looked over his shoulder to see if they were truly alone. Damon Dance-For-Me, Sour Alyn and Ben Bones had come out earlier and stood on the other end of porch, making their jokes about going hunting and wolf pelts for winter but Jon had stared the three of them down until they’d went on. He’d heard them shooting on down the way not long after. _Shooting at the raindrops, no doubt, like the_ _fools they are_.

It was loud inside the hall but kind of peaceful out here on the porch with just her and him and Ghost listening to the rain now. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. She looked as sweet as cream in that pretty dress with her hair done up all fancy. He’d like to see if down again though. _You’d like lots of things. Don’t mean you’ll ever have them_.

“Why don’t you come inside?” she asked.

“I’m wetter than a fish,” he laughed. “Ghost didn’t wanna come up on the porch when the rain started. It took some convincing. Why’d you come outside?”

“It was the only way I was gonna get to see you.”

“You shouldn’t wanna see me,” he said worrying that she was brewing up trouble for herself seeking him out this way.

“We shouldn’t want lots of things they say. I’m tired of being told what I should do or what I should want. I coulda stayed in Richmond and been told all day long what to do and think and want.” She put her glass down and turned to look him in the eye. “I heard all kinds of things about you, Jon Snow. They ain’t scared me off yet.”

Jon sipped his cider some more, trying to think of what he could say to this girl. That he agreed with her about being tired of being told what he should do or want? He wanted all kinds of things he’d never have, that he shouldn’t have. She was one of those things.

“How many men you killed?” she asked out of nowhere.

The question took him by surprise. It shouldn’t have maybe but he had been busy thinking on nice things just then. He thought about her in her pretty blue dress bringing him cider and how soft her skin looked. He remembered her wading out in the water the other day. He liked the way she’d given a little squeal when she dunked herself and thought she was alone. He’d been thinking about the way she’d felt so right pressed up tight against him on his horse with her arms around his waist and how he’d wished he would’ve just taken her home with him then. Not to do anything with her if she didn’t want it. Just to have her company for a time.

“Uh…I honestly don’t know for certain, miss. Maybe 15 or 16,” he said furrowing his brow and looking down. _You’re a killer, Jon Snow. Maybe you’re not a hard man but you’re a_ _killer. You’ve lost count of all the men you’ve killed. That’s a killer_.

“How many gunfights you been in then?”

“Only two…they don’t really happen all that much and…well, they ain’t like those dime novels make out.”

“Ever been in one here?”

“No.” _But maybe that’s gonna change…whether I want it to or not_.

The piano started playing a soft, slow song inside. It was sweet and gentle. Sansa walked down the porch a little ways…a little further from the windows and the door. Jon glanced in the window before he set his glass down and followed her. _Everyone busy entertaining themselves inside but she’ll be missed by somebody before too long_. His boots sounded loud on the wooden porch as he got closer to her but her footfalls were nearly silent.

“Cella plays nice,” Sansa said a bit longingly once she’d made it to the corner of the porch. It was a bit darker here away from the lanterns by the door.

“Yeah, she does. Would you wanna dance with me, Miss Sansa?” He nearly clapped his hand over his mouth as soon as the words were out. _What are you thinking, fool? You can’t dance and what’ll folks think if someone sees you out here_ _dancing with Ramsay’s intended?_ He could see the uncertainty on her face. She was biting her lower lip and looking down. “It’s alright if you don’t wanna. I shouldn’t have asked…”

“I do. I do wanna dance with you but if someone sees us…I don’t want you getting hurt.”

 _You’re worried about me getting hurt? You’re the one that’ll get hurt, darling._ Jon hung his head. He knew how Ramsay was but how could he get her to see it and leave with him? _She’s doing all this for her family. What can you do to help her? She’ll end up paying the price if Ramsay sees her with you. Is that what you want? To see this beautiful girl_ _hurting? If you care at all, you should go on and leave her be._

“I should probably head home,” he muttered.

“Wait…please don’t go,” she said, reaching a hand out towards him. She didn’t quite touch him though. She looked around for a moment and said, “Tell me something about yourself. Tell me something I don’t know. Something that isn’t some story the townsfolk tell.”

 _So full of questions and never what I expect you to say_. He smiled to himself then and tried to think of something that would be worth telling. “I…uh, I come from North Carolina.”

“Whereabouts?”

“Sugar Grove. It’s in the mountains not far from the state line.”

“Did you like it there?”

“Not really,” he said. She looked at him curiously. He didn’t like talking too much about himself but she’d just keep asking he figured. “I mean, I liked Sugar Grove alright but it wasn’t…it wasn’t all that happy there for me. I never knew my daddy. My mama ran off when I was 10. She met some man she liked better’n me.”

“Who’d she run off with?”

“Don’t know…just some man.”

“Who’d you live with when your mama run off?”

“Nobody,” he said and was surprised by her little gasp and the way her eyes got all shiny with tears. He swallowed hard and started studying his boots before he continued, “Well, there was an old lady lived about a mile down from our shack. She had a bunch of goats she raised. She made sure I didn’t starve anyway and I helped her with her goats some.”

“But you lived alone? And you were just 10?” she asked in such a sweet, worried voice.

“I did alright,” he said feigning indifference while scratching his beard and feeling embarrassed that she cared about what had happened when he was a boy. “When I turned 12, I found some work and started drifting here and there. I ended up mining up in Canada for a time and then I came out west when I was 19.”

“Just like me.”

“Yeah…I guess so.”

“Except you didn’t have no one to take care of you.”

“No.”

“I’d have taken care of you, Jon. If you were my boy…I’d have never left you if you were mine. There ain’t no man better’n you.”

She said it so matter-of-fact. She meant every word. Jon wasn’t sure why that was something that should mean so much to him but it did. He clutched his hat in a fist and crossed the distance between them. He took her by the waist, pulling her up close and tight, and kissed those sweet lips he’d been thinking of since he’d met her. Her eyes flew open as his lips touched hers but then she closed them and he closed his own. He tried to convey all he was feeling in that kiss and he knew it’d never be enough to really show her what he felt for her. Her lips were soft like he figured they’d be and he thought that if he died right now he’d surely die a happy man with the taste of her on his lips. He felt the rush of blood through his loins as she put her hands on his shoulders and started kissing him back, answering his kiss with her own sort of hungry longing. She wanted his kiss as much as he wanted to give her one.

It couldn’t have lasted more than the time it would take to count to twenty but he was out of breath when he jumped back from her and let go of her waist. Her eyes were open then, blue pools of mist, and her lips were parted in surprise. Her hand slowly raised up to touch her lips.

“I’m sorry…” he started to say.

“Take me away from here,” she said, stepping forward to him now and leaning up against him. “Take me away tonight and make me forget I ever met Ramsay Bolton,” she murmured in his ear as she grabbed his free hand. “Make me forget about my mama and my daddy tonight and Bran and Mr. Baelish.” He held her hand in his and pulled her back to him again when she whispered, “Please…make me forget everything tonight but you.”

He stared into those pretty blue eyes and knew he couldn’t ever say no to this girl. He pulled that soft hand of hers up to his lips and kissed it before he nodded.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa leaves the dance with Jon.

Jon paced back and forth under the blacksmith’s covered shed while Ghost stood there watching him. He had his hat clutched in his hand and was smacking it against his thigh from time to time out of nerves as he paced and wondered if something had gone wrong. _She coulda just come on. She didn’t have to go in there and make excuses. What if he_ _figured out something was up? What if someone saw us kissing on the porch?_   He didn’t like being stuck out here worrying. The thoughts of Ramsey finding out and hurting her were filling him with dread. But she’d insisted on making her excuses for leaving and he couldn’t seem to say no to her.

The rain had slacked off to no more than a drizzle now. Jon peered out from the shed to the community hall all lit up across the street. He could hear the laughter and loud talk and a bit of music from where he stood. It sounded like someone was playing the fiddle now. Ghost looked up at him questioningly.

“You think she ain't coming?” he asked his friend.

Ghost didn’t say anything of course. He just stared at Jon with those red eyes. The horses in the smith’s barn were whickering nervously. They didn’t like the wolf being close.

Just when he thought he might break from the strain of waiting, he peeked out from the shed once more and saw her leaving the hall. She came running across the muddy street towards him. She arrived all breathless and damp from the rain with mud splattered on the hem of her pretty dress. Her beautiful hair was starting to come down from her fancy braided bun. She ran right up to him, put a hand on his chest and started laughing. He couldn’t stop from reaching up and plucking those little flowers from her hair now. Their faces were inches apart and he really wanted to give her another kiss but remembered what he’d been so concerned about before he’d seen her running up to him.

“What’d you tell ‘em in there?” he asked anxiously. _Lord, I sound as nervous as a bridegroom_.

She laughed some more before she said, “That I was feeling poorly and needed to go home at once. I told Mrs. Mordane that Cella and her father was going to see me home since they was leaving anyway. She was having a good time and didn’t want to leave so she didn’t argue. Then, I told Ramsay the same thing. He was busy talking with Mr. Karstark and Mr. Umber and didn’t complain either. Cella told her daddy that she wasn’t feeling too good so he’d take her on. We were laughing together about us both feeling poorly all of a sudden.”

“So, Miss Baratheon knows you’re leaving with me?”

“Well, maybe not exactly with you but she knows I’m leaving. Don’t worry. She won’t say nothing. She ain’t like Miss Poole. Anyway…I’m hoping it’ll be a while before Mr. Bolton and Ramsay are ready to leave. And the door to my room’s closed so he…well, I hope he won’t be trying to see me tonight…”

“What’s that mean? Has he been coming to you at night?” he asked suddenly feeling both sick and filled with fury at the thoughts of Ramsay touching her.

“No…well, not like you’re meaning. Anyway, they probably won’t realize I’m not there till tomorrow.”

Jon sighed and took her hands in his. She’d bought them the night more than likely but the sun would still be rising on the morrow. “You know this is crazy, right? He’ll come looking for you.”

She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, and said, “I know…and I know he’ll be out for blood. If that’s not something you want, tell me now. I won’t blame you. I’ll walk on back to the house and I promise I’ll leave you be.”

He wasn’t about to let her leave him be. If it came to blood, so be it. She had ignited a fire in his own blood that he didn’t even realize existed.

“No, you’re coming home with me,” he said. He felt a giddy sort of feeling in him. _She’s coming home with me. And I mean to keep her_. They were both laughing as he led her to the place where his horse waited. He helped her up in the saddle, putting her in front of him this time. He wanted to get to hold onto her this time. “Come on, Ghost,” he called once they were ready to ride.

Jon was no fool though. He knew what this would mean but he couldn’t find it in himself to worry over much about it right now. If Ramsay wanted her back, he’d have to come through him first to get her. _And_ _then we’ll find out who’s quick and who’s dead._

 

* * *

 

 

 _Safe…why’s he makes me feel so safe when I’ve just put us both in danger?_ Sansa wasn’t sure but she just knew that riding in front of him with his arms around her and his hands on the reins of his horse made her feel safe and protected. He held on tight at times and others he let his hold go slack a bit but she felt secure the whole time. There was a vague flicker of a memory here…something about the first time she sat a horse with her daddy holding her up in front of him. She’d been scared being so high up off the ground then. She couldn’t have been more than three or four. She’d been scared but she’d felt safe then, too. Safe in her daddy’s arms and now safe in Jon Snow’s arms. She stopped reflecting on the past and leaned back into him, letting her head lay on his shoulder and his beard scratching her forehead lightly once in a while as they rode. It didn’t bother her any, especially when he was leaning in to give her a gentle kiss on her forehead or hair from time to time.

They were riding back to his place in the dark on his horse. The rain had stopped but she was still all damp from it and, though the August night was warm, she felt a bit chilled where his arms weren’t around her. The moon had finally come out from behind the clouds to guide their way across the open, flat lands with just some brush here and there. Ghost followed them but occasionally he’d run off after some animal in the dark.

“How far is your place?” she asked when she felt herself wanting to nod off a bit from the easy, rocking motion of the horse and the warmth of Jon’s arms around her. She felt something hard pressing up against her backside where her bustle and corset weren’t in the way. She didn’t mention it. She had a sneaking suspicion of what it was but didn’t want to embarrass him.

“Just a few more miles,” he answered pulling her up a bit tighter. His beard tickled as he ducked his head low to kiss her cheek. “You alright?”

“Yeah…just feeling a bit tired. Will you tell me something else about you? Just to pass the time? Something I don’t know and that the townsfolk don’t gossip about?”

“Like what?”

“You ever had a woman before? One that you loved?”

He jerked his head back like he’d just been stung by a bee and she couldn’t help but laugh when she turned and saw the look on his face…like he’d been caught at something. _Well, I guess that answers that question_ , Sansa thought with a private smile. She didn’t care if he had loved another woman. He was older than her and she didn’t expect he’d lived as a monk. _He’s mine tonight anyway…and I’m his for as long as he wants me_.

“I…uh, when I lived up in Canada, I went to work at a small mining camp. There was this woman…well, she was really still a girl, I guess. She wasn’t one of the camp whores. She and a couple of other women were there to mine, too. She knew more about it than me and helped me out some.” He got quiet and Sansa thought that was all she was going to hear about it. _She knew more about what exactly?_ she wondered. He finally continued with his tale. “Anyway, we ended up together for a time. She was the first woman I ever had but I weren’t her first. She had red hair like you. It wasn’t as nice as yours though,” he finished and Sansa felt his hand at the base of her neck, like he was trying to touch her hair. He was still wearing his gloves.

“Did you love her?”

“In a way, I suppose.”

“How long were you with her?”

“Most of a year before the mine dried up and we went our separate ways.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Not anymore. I did at first but I guess I got over that. I was only 17 when I took up with her.”

“You’ve had other women though?”

“Well, yeah…but none of ‘em were really mine.”

They rode on in silence for a bit before Sansa said, “Mr. Baelish kissed me when I turned 16. He told me I was pretty. Mama didn’t know. She wouldn’t have liked it.” She heard him make a sound. It sounded a bit like a grunt and a growl combined but he didn’t say nothing so she continued, “Ramsay came to my room last night when I was dressing for bed.” She felt his arms get all tense around her then. She could feel those muscles of his tighten up as he was squeezing her a bit now on the back of his horse. It didn’t hurt though. “He didn’t do nothing but give me a kiss.” She closed her eyes and told herself she was in Jon Snow’s arms now and she was safe. She continued in a softer voice, “It made me scared anyhow. More scared than I felt when Mr. Baelish kissed me and I didn’t know what to think back when that happened. That man’s old enough to be my daddy and he shouldn’t have kissed me like that when he was staying with me and Mama and Bran. But I felt more scared from Ramsay’s kiss last night than I ever did from Mr. Baelish’s. I don’t think a girl should feel scared when the man she’s supposed to marry kisses her, do you?”

“No,” he said. She felt him relax some. Maybe knowing that Ramsay didn’t do more than kiss her helped.

“Would it have bothered you if he’d done more than kiss me?”

“Yeah…especially if you didn’t want that. But I guess it would’ve bothered me anyway…even if you had wanted it.”

“I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t ever want that with him,” she said leaning back again against his shoulder and neck. “I’d want it with you though,” she finished and she kissed the side of his neck, under his beard.

“Sansa, you ain’t never been with a man. You don’t know what you’re…”

“Yes, I do. Just cause I’m not experienced don’t mean I don’t know what I want,” she said quickly then. “Or did you forget what I said earlier about being tired of being told what I’m supposed to want?”

“No, I didn’t forget,” he said. “I ain’t gonna to make you do anything you don’t want though. Just remember that.”

 

They arrived at his little homestead soon after. It was small but nicer than what she’d expected. He rode the horse to the small barn and she stood by while he rubbed the animal down. He took her hand then and led her into his house. There were two rooms; one with a table, a chair and fire place for cooking and heat and one with a bed, a wash stand and a chest of drawers. He started a fire and fetched her some water. She took her clothes off by the bed and started to wash. There was only a curtain between the two rooms and she’d glimpsed his boots at the bottom of it once or twice as she washed.

“I got you something to wear while your dress dries when you’re done in there,” he finally said through the curtain.

“Alright.”

“You want to…um, cover up and I’ll bring it in?”

Sansa smiled to herself. She’d come home with him. She figured he was probably going to see all of her by the time this night was done but he wasn’t the kind of man to just assume. She liked that about him. She pulled the quilt off his bed and wrapped it around her under her arms, leaving her shoulders bare.

“Come on in,” she called.

He walked into the bedroom and froze when he saw her. He had a red union suit in his arms but he stood there drinking her in with his eyes like he was dying of thirst and she was a glass of water. She felt herself blushing a bit when he ducked his head and laid the long underwear out on the bed, mumbling that it had shrunk when he’d washed it and it was too small for him. She nodded at him as he scurried out of the room like it was on fire. Sansa was grateful for something dry to change into though it was a bit snug in places even on her and the material was a bit scratchy, especially across her breasts compared to her soft chemise.

She walked back into the other room having changed. He was sitting at the table and she put her clothes on a line he’d hung up by the fire to dry. He looked up at her and made a strange little sucking sound in his throat, kind of like a gasp.

“What’s the matter? I’m a girl in long underwear and you look like someone just walked over your grave,” she laughed.

“You just…um, that looks good on you,” he muttered as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and rubbed the other hand along his britches.

She had to laugh again at that. “Who looks good in one of these?” she said. She did a twirl in front of him. “Do you fancy my new party dress, Mr. Snow?” she asked with a curtsey then.

She thought he’d laugh along with her but instead he just gave her a quick nervous grin. “You do…you look good in it. It fits you nice…your, um…well, never mind,” he said looking down at his knees now.

Sansa cocked an eyebrow at him. She’d seen the effect she’d had on him down by the creek. Riding up in front of him on his horse tonight she’d been poked in the rear most of the ride and knew it wasn’t the saddle horn or his belt buckle poking her. She’d felt the intensity behind that kiss tonight. She suspected what she was about to do would push him over the edge…one way or another. _Well, it’s the only chair in the room. Not my fault he’s sitting in it already._ She walked right over to him and sat in his lap. He leaned back away from her as though she’d given him another fright.

“There ain’t another chair,” she said as though that was a perfectly good reason to sit in a man’s lap.

“Um…you could have this one.”

“I like where I’m sitting.”

“Sansa…”

“Stop talking, Jon Snow,” she said as she moved to kiss him.

She’d liked his kiss earlier and wanted to feel that way again. And this time she wanted to be the one that started the kissing. His initial surprise didn’t last. He was soon kissing her right back, pressing those full lips up against hers and making her feel like she was melting inside. He slid his tongue into her mouth and she found she didn’t mind it. It was warm and wet and something about the way he moaned when she started to move her tongue against his pleased her. But then his mouth and tongue were kissing and licking along her neck and he worked his way over to her ear. It was her turn to moan then and he seemed to like that, too.

His hands that he had been keeping down at his sides moved to her waist. It seemed like he could practically wrap those hands around her waist even without her corset. She ran her hands up to that hair of his that she had been thinking of running her hands through since their meeting at the creek. The curls were soft and she let her fingers glide through them as he kept kissing her neck. When she tugged a bit on it, he tightened his grip on her hips and pulled her closer to him. She could feel his manhood getting hard through the union suit she was wearing and his britches and she finally had to come up for a breath. It wasn’t like he had a hand over her mouth smothering her or anything. It just felt like she couldn’t get a proper breath with him kissing and touching her this way.

“Jon, I know you worry over what’s right or wrong here but I do want this. If it’s only for tonight, I’ll take what I can get. I know you’ll have to fight Ramsay. I know he won’t let this go. Maybe I’m a bad, selfish girl cause I don’t care right now. I’m hoping you’ll kill him for me and I don’t want to think about the alternative. I don’t think I want to go on living if you don’t win and maybe that’s bad and selfish of me, too. I promise you though…there ain’t no other man I’d rather be with than you. Can you believe me when I tell you that?”

He didn’t speak. He only nodded and started kissing her some more. He moved his hands up to her breasts and gently touched them through the fabric. Whether it was the scratchy wool or what his hands were doing she wasn’t sure but she let out a whimper and started undoing buttons she’d just done up a little bit ago. He stared at her intensely as she slowly unbuttoned. When her chest was exposed, he slid a hand inside to cup a breast. _Definitely him and not the wool then_ , she thought as she enjoyed the feel of his callused palm on her. He pushed back the suit to expose both of her breasts to him now, his hands moving swiftly, and ducked his head to take a nipple in his mouth. If his tongue in her mouth felt good, Sansa didn’t even have the words to say how amazing this felt. She moaned loudly then and was pressing herself to him, even trying to offer the other breast for his attentions. He didn’t neglect it.

She started feeling the heat pooling down in her core as his tongue lapped and licked at her teats, making them hard, and all the while she ran her fingers through that soft, curly hair of his. It felt so right and yet left her wanting more. She began to squirm across his lap now. She let one hand fall from his hair and brushed against the hardness through his britches. He let out an almost painful sounding moan and she moved her hand back, thinking she’d done something wrong. He grabbed her hand though and put it back on him. He looked up from her breasts. His mouth was all wet and his lips looked darker than normal.

“Don’t stop that…please,” he said, flicking his eyes downward towards his lap.

“I won’t,” she said softly as she started moving her hand again, stroking him through his britches. She wasn’t certain what she was supposed to be doing but he seemed content all the same.

He started kissing her neck again while one hand played with a teat and the other moved through her hair. The fancy braided bun was half hanging down now and he seemed eager to pull it out completely. He moved his other hand up to help untangle and unbraid her hair with his fingers.

“So beautiful,” he said breathlessly when all her hair was hanging around her shoulders at last. “You’re so beautiful, darling.”

Sansa felt dizzy from the feel of his mouth and hands and his sweet words. She didn’t want this to stop but she was wanting more, too. He nearly cried out when she let go of his length and moved to straddle him in the chair. She rubbed against him now, feeling damp through the suit now and not able to get enough of him all firm and hot against her. She started shamelessly rocking up against him… _like riding a horse_ …to find some relief to that keening ache down below her belly at the center of her thighs.

Just as he stopped kissing her neck and looked up at her and just as she was all flushed and breathless looking down at him, the chair gave an ominous sounding creak from their combined weight.

“I only got the one chair,” he said with a grin.

She laughed and said, “Then take me to the bed.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do I summarize this? 
> 
> Jon complies with Sansa's request and, unlike the chair, the bed is up to the challenge.

She was beautiful. There was no argument there. The most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Any man that tried to argue with Jon about it would’ve regretted the argument. A beautiful girl. _But she’s more than that._

She’d covered her breasts again before standing up from the chair. As she started towards the bedroom, he grabbed her up in his arms to carry her there. She gave a little screech and then started laughing. He loved the sound of that laughter. He couldn’t remember a purer sounding thing in all the world than the sound of Sansa Stark laughing.

He laid her gently down on the bed and then took off his belt and vest while she lay there watching him. He sat down to take off his boots and she immediately got up on her knees behind him and reached over his shoulders, her hands busy with the buttons on his shirt as she laid kisses on the side of his neck and on his cheek. She claimed his whiskers didn’t bother her. _I hope not. They may be touching more sensitive places before long_. There weren’t but a few buttons and she made quick work of them. She helped him tug his shirt off over his head and he felt her hands gliding across his bare back. Her touch was light…almost too light and it caused him to shiver.

“I’m sorry,” she said, clearly unsure of herself as she withdrew her hands.

“No need to be,” he replied trying to reassure this girl that she wasn’t doing a thing wrong. “Guess I’m a bit ticklish. No one ever touches me really…not like that.”

She put her hands back on him again and he closed his eyes to savor a soft and loving touch…something he hadn’t felt all that often for more years than he cared to admit. As she moved her hands from his shoulders to his chest, he had to keep reminding himself that this would be her first time. But, it was going to be his first time in quite a while and it was going to be hard to go slow like he should. _It’s hard alright_ , he thought with a groan as her hand slid from his bare chest downward. _Christ, she’s gonna have me making a mess in my britches if she keeps that up._

He turned to face her. “You wanna take that off?” he asked, glancing at the long underwear.

She nodded and he pulled her onto his lap, unbuttoning it down to her belly and helping her shrug it off her shoulders. He ran his hands over her shoulders. They weren’t broad like his. They were narrower, gently sloped and the skin was soft and smooth. He looked down her long, straight back to where it disappeared in the long underwear that was at her waist now. And of course, he looked at her breasts. _The size of ripe peaches or a little bigger and just as sweet. How could I not look?_

She started to stand to undress the rest of the way but he stopped her. “No…stay here like this for a minute,” he said, his voice deeper than usual in his aroused state. He slid his hand down between her skin and the cloth and cupped her sex. She tensed up and he knew, despite all her talk about things she wanted, she was feeling a little afraid of what was to come. “I won’t hurt you, sweet girl. This part shouldn’t hurt one bit.”

She nodded at him though she was still tense as he slowly began to run his finger along her slit. _Back and forth…nice and slow_. She leaned her head against the side of his and he could hear her breath coming out with a little hitching sound with every caress. Just like he’d do with a hurt or frightened animal, he would coax her into relaxing. He would establish trust and show her the way things would be between them. _You’ll never have to fear me. And for this…for you, I’ll be as gentle as a lamb for all my wolf’s clothing._

He could feel a bit of wetness now as he stroked her but he didn’t dare enter her yet. He would make sure she was good and ready. He’d use his hands first and then his mouth on her. He’d have her dripping before he got his cock anywhere near her. _Hand first, then mouth_. Ygritte had always liked it when he used his mouth on her and he doubted she was singular in that regard.

Sansa gave a needful little moan and was squirming in his lap again, just like earlier when they were on the chair. He entered her with his forefinger. He nearly didn’t hear her gasp because he was gasping, too. _Holy hell, she’s tight…on just my finger. God, how will I ever manage not to hurt her?_ His concerns receded some though as she began to rock back and forth across his lap and whimper as he started kissing her neck and dipping his finger in and out, a gentle steady rhythm. He moved his mouth down to her breasts and she became a bit more desperate.

“Please…more…I need more, Jon.”

He entered her with another finger as his tongue lapped at one sweet, pink-tipped tit before moving to the other and then back again. He used his thumb to trace along her bud and she made that hitching sound again. _Nice and steady we go_. She was soon bucking on his fingers and her hands were grasping at his shoulders for support. He could feel the wetness running down between his fingers and decided she was probably ready for the next step in the dance he was leading her through.

“Stand up, darling,” he said. She did and he pulled the union suit the rest of the way off. She braced herself on his shoulders to step out of it. He sat there looking at her fully naked before him now. She clasped her hands in front of her mound and was looking down at her toes. “You’re beautiful,” he sighed and she looked up at him like she didn’t believe him. “You are. Surely, you been told that.”

“I have but…I like hearing it from you.”

“Lay back on the bed for me now, my sweet girl.”

She laid down and covered herself with her hands once more, her eyes wide and full of fear…until he got down between her legs and nudged them apart. She was propped up on her elbows looking curiously at him then.

“This part won’t hurt a bit either,” he said before he lowered his head.

He gave her slit a slow lick and tasted her tentatively with his tongue, keeping his eyes on hers, looking for signs that this was not pleasing her. He had no need to fear. Her blue eyes were nearly black from desire now and she quivered when he darted his tongue inside of her. _Sweet as sugar_ , he thought with an inward smile.

She caught on quick that this was about her pleasure and laid back to enjoy what he was doing. She reached down and gently twisted a lock of his hair through her fingers. But when he started licking at her little pearl, she nearly pulled his hair out. And when he sucked on it, she called out his name and writhed under him, keeping a death grip on his hair the whole time. He didn’t mind any and she wasn’t trying to get away from him.

He continued tasting her with his tongue, lapping at her sweetness, and entering her with his fingers. When she was well on her way to her peak, he curled his fingers inside her just a touch. She cried out loudly then and he could feel her shuddering and thrumming around his fingers. It’d been so long since he’d done this to any woman but to please Sansa this way affected him more strongly than he would’ve believed possible… _at least before I met her_.

He moved up the bed and held her to him while she was still shaking some afterwards. “Was that alright?” he asked, though he knew the answer.

“That was much more than alright, Jon Snow,” she said with a blush. She slapped his arm then. “‘ _Was that alright?!_ ’” She tried to look all angry but he could tell she was about to start laughing. “You know perfectly well that it was more than just alright!”

“Well, yeah…but a man likes to hear it.”

She started laughing and he chuckled with her. “But, Jon…when’re you gonna do the other thing?” she asked next, all shy and sweet again.

“What other thing?” he said trying to get her to laugh some more.

She looked concerned all a sudden that he might not know what she meant. “The other part where you…Oh!” she said as she caught on to his teasing. “You know exactly what I mean, don’t you?! You’re impossible! You know that?”

He liked holding her and laughing with her…and he liked seeing her vexed like this when they were just playing. But he had to ask her something. He really hoped the answer was going to be yes but he had to ask anyway.

“Sansa…you sure you want that? The other thing? I can’t promise that it won’t hurt some…the first time anyway.”

“Yes, I want it,” she said with the fiery determination he’d come to admire in her…that he’d come to love about her. “And, I’d like to see you naked, too.”

He grinned and started unfastening his britches. She sat up and watched him like he was putting on a play for her entertainment and he felt his cheeks start to redden. _Why the_ _hell am I embarrassed? I’m not the virgin here_. He wasn’t sure but he did feel a bit embarrassed at the way she was watching him so intently. Her eyes were fastened on his groin like she was watching a horse race and had money riding on the outcome.

He shucked off his britches quickly and darted under the quilt. He could see the disappointed look on her face when she saw him do that.

“I’m sorry. I got to feeling a bit shy for some reason. You can look at me but could we just kiss some more first?”

“Shy? After what you just did to me?” she scoffed. “Why you shy around me, Jon Snow?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I…I just wanna please you. I want you to like what we’re doing. And you make me feel…” He didn’t know how to finish that. He held the quilt up for her to climb under with him and the feel of her warm, soft skin against him got his chest to feeling all achy again. “Sansa…I…” he started. The lump started forming in his throat then and his eyes got to feeling moist. He couldn’t say it. The words wouldn’t come out…not just yet. _Too many years of having no one to say it to and never, ever having heard it said_ _back to me, I guess_.

She seemed to understand him well though because she smiled that smile of hers that was more radiant than the morning sunrise. “You do please me, Jon. Now, please me some more,” she finished with that devilish little grin he loved.

 

* * *

 

 

The early morning sun was coming through the window when he woke. His arm was slung across her naked form under the quilt and he pulled her warm softness closer. She gave a sleepy little grumble and he smiled to himself and kissed her neck and shoulder, nuzzling her hair to the side with his nose to reach her lovely ivory flesh that reminded him of porcelain except that it was warmer, softer and sweeter than any porcelain could ever be. _And she don’t break like porcelain does_.

Last night had been her first time and it had been his first time in a long time. She’d been eager but full of nerves, too. They’d kissed under the covers for a good long while and he got over his shyness soon enough to let Sansa satisfy her curiosity some regarding his man parts. Her hand wrapped around him had nearly been his undoing though and he’d had to roll on top of her so things weren’t over before they got started. She’d felt so good in his arms. She kept telling him he wasn’t too heavy but he kept hovering over her, afraid of squashing her small frame. She liked playing with the smattering of hair across his chest with her fingers while he held her like she’d never seen anything like it.

He was more than a little embarrassed at how that first time between them had went. He was patient though and waited till she spread her legs on her own for him before he started pushing into her. But he didn’t think he’d managed to last more than a dozen thrusts. She’d had no previous experience to gauge by then and she’d not complained. She’d gasped when he’d entered her fully, taking her maidenhood with one thrust, but she’d not cried as he had feared she might. He’d never been with a virgin before so he didn’t have any experience to gauge _that_ by.

She’d felt tight around his finger. She’d been like a vice around his cock…but the warmest and wettest vice that there ever was. When she wrapped those long legs of hers around his waist, it was all he could do to keep his head and not start ramming into her like he was trying to lay siege to her cunt. He’d went slow but he still hadn’t lasted long… _least not the first time._

The second time he had lasted a good deal longer. Just remembering the sound of the cast iron bed frame creaking and squeaking with their every movement while Sansa was moaning in his ear and he panted and grunted above her was enough to make him hard again. He lay there getting harder as he remembered her soft, full teats pressed against his chest and her pink nipples becoming tight little pebbles as he licked and sucked at them while running his hands through all that beautiful red hair, his hips never stopping. _So tight and her kisses so sweet_.

He’d watched Sansa reach her pleasure with beautiful abandon that time and it was nearly better than reaching his own. Her teeth biting her bottom lip, her eyes darkened with desire, her hair a mess, spread out beneath her like a red fan while she called out his name…it was worth every bit of trouble coming his way. If he died today at Ramsey’s hand, it would all have been worth it. Not that he planned on dying.

He’d not loved a woman that way in a long, long time…if ever. Ros and Shae were whores. They might prefer him compared to some of the men they lay with but he was ultimately just a customer and they were just whores that lay with men for money. Ygritte and he had shared something special, he’d thought. It was love in a way he supposed but when it ended, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret her for too long.

Sansa though…Sansa was a different kind of special and he didn’t want to lose her. He wanted to wake up every morning feeling her naked body curled up against him with his arm across her waist as the sun came shining in. He wanted to work up a sweat every night loving her whether it was summer or winter. He wanted to hear her laughter and her cries ecstasy in his bed again and again.

He wasn’t about to let anything bad happen to her. He had some money saved up from different jobs he’d done. His little homestead on the plain he’d built himself on a plot of land hadn’t taken all that much of it. His needs were simple. Most of his money was buried under the loose floorboard by the fire place. Maybe it wasn’t much compared to what some men had but it was something and he wanted to give it to her. He wanted to tell her to catch the train back East or wherever she wanted to go…to go be a free woman and live a life that suited her instead of the life others wanted her to live. He wondered if she’d listen. She could be a bit stubborn. And if he survived, he hoped she might want to come back here and live with him. Or if she preferred someplace else, he hoped she wouldn’t mind if he joined her there…wherever that ended up being.

She let out a yawn and stretched beside him. Her backside reared up against him with her stretch and he knew she’d be feeling his hardness pressed against her.

“Mornin’,” she said with a grin as she rolled to her back beside him.

“Mornin’ to you,” he replied sweeping her hair back out of her face. “You sleep good?”

“I did.”

“You…um, are you sore?” he asked next, half afraid to meet her eye.

“Not so far,” she said.

He started to ask if she wanted something to eat or to wash but she reached her hand down and grasp his length giving him a squeeze and pulling forth a strangled kind of moan from him.

“You might want to stop that,” he said brokenly, “unless you’re telling me you're ready for more.”

“I think that’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you.”

Jon groaned as she rolled on top of him. “Sansa…we need to talk about some things.”

“I know…just not yet though,” she whispered. “Right now, I want you to love me some more.”

“I do love you,” he said before he gave it too much thought.

“You…you love me?” she asked with a hopeful kind of look.

He nodded and kissed her before answering, “I do.”

She laid her pretty head down on his chest and let him put his arms around her before she whispered, “I love you, too.”

He had no memory of anyone ever telling him that. Not his mama, not Ygritte…no one. He bit his lip hard to keep those tears from falling. _Hard men don’t cry_ , he told himself as he stroked her back, knowing in his soul that he wasn’t a hard man at all.

Sansa was something new and special in a dozen different ways and he was never going to be able to let her go unless she told him to. _Even then I might not be able to let her_ _go._

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Ohhh_ …Jon…” she cried as her hips kept moving in time with his thrusting. “Please, don’t stop… _unhh_ …don’t ever let it stop. Yes…yes…yes!” she sobbed as she felt her peak breaking over her only to bring her crashing down with her heart racing.

She lay atop of him trying to catch her breath yet again. He kissed her soft and gentle across her sweaty forehead and ran his fingers though her hair. When she was able to pull back enough to look at him, he grinned up at her and said, “I’m not done with you yet, girl.”

 _Oh, thank you, Jesus_ , she thought as he started slowly rocking his hips for her once more. She was getting a bit sore by now but she couldn’t seem to care. Riding him this way, she’d flown like a bird three times already this morning. She wanted to spread her arms wide and sing…but not enough to stop doing this. And, he’d not spilled this morning yet. He seemed to be holding out for her. She knew last night he’d had to rest a bit between the first and second time. _I guess he’s tired of resting_.

His eyes had been shining with love and the tears he’d attempted to hide when she’d told him she loved him. And it was true. He was a good, sweet man regardless of any killing he’d done in the past. Sansa didn’t care about that now. He loved her and she loved him. Maybe he was a stranger a dozen days ago. Maybe a dozen days ago she’d been telling herself that she could go through with marrying Ramsay and doing what Mama and Mr. Baelish wanted. Those things didn’t matter now. She wanted to help Mama…or Bran at least…but she wasn’t some filly to be sold off to any old buyer who came along. She deserved better than that and she’d found better than that. She wouldn’t ever willingly lay in Ramsay’s arms now. She loved Jon Snow and she was never going to stop loving him. And if some folks thought them crazy, so be it. Their hearts fit each other as perfectly as their bodies did.

Sansa leaned back from where she’d been bent over him to more of a sitting position again. _Sitting on his cock like I’m in the saddle_. He gripped her hips a bit harder, increased the pace of his thrusts and she could feel that delicious release coming on her once more.

“ _Mmmm_ …yes, Jon,” she hummed as she beckoned him to take her there.

“Again, darling…you gonna come again for your man?” he asked with a smug little smile on his face.

Part of her would’ve liked to smack that smug look off of his face but she was too busy enjoying this at the moment. “Yes…oh, yes…I am… _unnn_ …”

“Tell me your mine,” he said huskily.

“I’m yours… _uhhh_ …dammit…I’m yours,” she whined.

He gave her ass a playful smack and Sansa gasped…and discovered she liked that. “My girl’s got a sassy mouth, I think,” he said. He was getting all breathless now. She could tell he wasn’t going to be able to hold much longer. She didn’t want him to hold much longer anyway.

“Yes…yes, I do…” she moaned. “I love feeling…you…your cock inside me,” she breathed out, flushing red with the words she was saying but pleased by the fire in his eyes now.

“You do, don’t you? You like it when I’m deep inside that sweet, little cunny of yours, darling?” She nodded and he smacked her ass again. “Say it…please, Sansa… _unnn_ …say it. I’m gonna come soon.”  The sun was well up by now and the little room was getting hot. They were both wringing with sweat from their busy morning. Sansa licked the sweat off her upper lip and whimpered, touching at her breasts as she rode him and looking from his eyes to her breasts and back again.  “I know what you want. Just… _uhhh_ …say it… _ahhh_ , damn…say it and I will,” he promised.

“I love your cock in my cunny, Jon,” she said at last, grinning at him. “I want… _ohhhh_ …don’t stop… _annhh_ …I want you to… _mmm_ …again…please.”

He pulled her back down to him, thrusting his hips even harder now and griping her ass tighter to hold her in place. He sucked and nipped at her nipples making her even wetter if that were possible. She could hear the wet sounds of her cunt sliding up and down along his shaft. Their sweaty bodies were making a slapping sound of flesh on flesh with his every thrust now. And she was loving every bit of this.

“ _Unnn_ … _unnn_ …JON! OH, JON! YES! YES! YES!!!” she cried out when she finally went soaring once more.

“Sansa!” he answered. “Yes, darling!” he shouted before he grunted loudly and spilled within her at last. A few minutes later, he let go of her and lay there like she’d broke him…like she’d broke a wild stallion. She rolled off and winced. “You're sore now, ain’t you?” he asked rolling to his side to touch her face.

“I am,” she admitted.

“I’ll get you some water and warm it up for you to wash.”

“And that’ll help?”

“It should. Warm water helps when I’ve got sore muscles.”

“You said you hadn’t ever been with a virgin before,” she said cocking an eyebrow at him.

“I hadn’t…don’t mean I don’t know some things though,” he grinned before kissing her nose and getting up to fetch her the water.

 

* * *

 

 

As soon as she was out of the bed, they’d started arguing. He’d wanted to talk about what they were going to do about Ramsay of course while she washed when all she’d wanted was to forget a little longer. He’d pulled on his britches but left his shirt off. She’d cleaned herself and had decided that she could manage to walk from one end of the room to the other at least without cringing when he’d got her so riled up telling her about his hidden money and his idea to send her away. She didn’t realize that getting riled up and getting aroused could be connected until then. _Well, what would you know of it, Sansa? Till last night anyway_.

Suddenly, all she wanted was to make love to him again and kiss those sweet lips of his to shut him up and give him better things to think on. Turned out getting riled up was having the same effect on him. So, that’s how they’d ended up making love again in the middle of their first fight.

“Hellfire! You’re the most stubborn woman I ever met! And can’t you put on some damned clothes?!” he’d shouted at last.

“Why? Maybe I don’t want to!” she’d answered, knowing better than him what was happening here.

“I can’t think straight with you…” he gestured helplessly towards her nudity.

“So, it’s my fault you can’t think straight? But you’re right about one thing…you’re not thinking straight at all right now!”

That was all it’d took. He grabbed her round the waist and hauled her up against him. He kissed her like he wasn’t ever going to get to kiss her again, leaving her all flushed and dizzy. _Damn him and that mouth of his and his kisses_.

They were both panting from fighting a battle with their tongues...first from arguing and then from kissing…when he told her to get on the bed. She’d jumped on that bed like a flood was coming and it was a boat. He had his britches down before she even turned back to look at him and he’d scrambled up behind her. She felt his whiskers brush her thighs just before his tongue licked her slit and a wanton moan tore from her throat against her will. _Like some whore, Sansa. How you ever going to get him to behave and listen_ _if you can’t resist him for just a little bit?_

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” he husked against her thigh.

She bit her lip to keep from moaning at least and nodded. She was on her hands and knees, crossways across his bed and he knelt there behind her, licking and sucking at her till she was gripping the edge of the mattress like it was the only thing keeping her attached to this Earth and calling out his name yet again. _God help me…that mouth of his_. Then, he’d moved up behind her on his knees and entered her.

“This alright?” he asked before he started moving.

“Yeah…you just…I need you to move,” she panted and heard him chuckling at that. He moved, alright. He moved just fine and dandy and Sansa was all sticky again by the time they’d finished. “I need another wash,” she said as they both lay there catching their breath afterwards with him holding her up close to his chest and running his hand up and down her arm. But as soon as she was on her feet, she said, “So, to be clear…I’m not taking your money.”

And just like that, they were right back in the middle of their argument…though they would touch each other sweetly and some of the heat had left their tongues now.

He threw his clothes back on but, when she reached for his union suit she’d worn last night, he shook his head and grabbed it out of her hands. He went and fetched her dress and told her to put it on instead. It was dry now anyway.

She looked at him questioningly and he blushed and said, “I can’t…um, it’s just more than I can withstand at present. It fits you…um, really good…in all the right places.”

She just shrugged her shoulders, finished washing up and put on the dress.

He was stubborn as a mule and kept insisting she go and leave town. _Round and round, we go with this_. He wanted her away and someplace safe. He didn’t seem to understand there weren’t no safe places for her without him. He kept insisting and she kept refusing to take his money and leave town.

“I ain’t leaving and that’s the end of it! You’re stuck with me, Jon Snow. You don’t make no sense anyhow. What if we made a baby last night? You ever think on that?”

“Yes, I did! Well…no, I didn’t. Shit!” he said slamming his hand down on the wash stand. He calmed down and said in a softer voice, “Sansa…I’m planning on coming for you. But if something happens to me, you could always tell anybody you’re my widow if…I’m coming for you though. I just want you somewhere safe and…”

“No…if there’s a baby, it’s gonna know it’s mama and daddy both. And, I’m not leaving you. If you wanna leave on the train together, then I’ll go. But if you’re staying to fight Ramsay, I’m staying, too.”

“He ain’t just gonna go away. He’s the kind of man that would consider it a thrill to come looking for us. And if I lose here...if I fall…you won’t be safe.”

“I wasn’t safe here anyway. You know that. The only way I’ll feel safe is by your side. And if he kills you and I’ve run off somewhere, what makes you think he won’t come searching for me? Think I’d be safe then?”

He sat down on the edge of the bed brooding and glaring at her after being faced with that bit of logic and she finally threw up her hands at him and headed into the other room. She started rooting around his little pantry to make them some breakfast. He came in the room, with his arms crossed and sat in the chair. She knew he was hacked off right now but would eventually see things her way. She wanted him to agree to leave with her but if he wouldn’t, she wasn’t leaving either. She started making oatmeal and coffee while he sat there and stewed. _If there was a contest for brooding, you’d win hands down_.

“You got any sugar?” she asked over her shoulder when breakfast was almost ready.

“Sugar?”

“Yeah…I like it in my coffee. And I like a bit in my oatmeal, too.” He started laughing then as he got up and walked up behind her. She had no idea why that should be funny but she was glad to hear him laughing again. She loved the way his eyes would shine and crinkled up in merriment. He’d laughed a good deal last night and this morning during their love making. Sansa had already decided it was her favorite sound in the whole wide world. “Well, do you?”

“I got sugar,” he grinned. He reached around her and pulled down a tin. “I think I got plenty of sugar last night and this morning,” he said then kissing her cheek.

She felt her cheeks glowing from the comment and the sly little smile he gave her then. She sweetened their oatmeal and he poured them some coffee. They sat down at the table, her in the chair and him on a stool he’d brought in from the barn.

It was just as they were finishing that they heard Ghost give a howl. Jon’s head jerked up at once. “He don’t ever make a sound,” he said, jumping up and reaching for his gun belt.

Sansa’s breath was getting short and she felt like all the blood had drained from her face. “He’s here, ain’t he?”

Jon looked out the window. “I can’t see anything out there but something’s not right.”

“So much for catching a train,” she muttered to herself.

He was busy messing with his guns when they heard horses. She jumped up and ran over to look out the window. He yelled at her to get away from it and started to yank her back. She’d recognized Ramsay sitting on his gelding from a distance. There were two men riding with him and Sansa thought she recognized Sheriff Dondarrion with one of his men. She wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. She grabbed Jon’s arm.

“You got a rifle or shotgun…for me?”

He looked back at her bewildered. “Do you know how to fire a rifle?”

“Yeah…my older brother, Robb, showed me how to use one a few times when we was younger.”

“Come here then,” he said leading her to the bed. He pulled the Winchester out from under it. He checked it over and then handed it to her. “You know what to do?”

“Yes.”

“You stay in here. Don’t come out for nothing.” She gave a half-hearted nod which didn’t suit him. “Do you hear me?!” he shouted, taking her arm and making her look at him.

“Yes, I hear you. I’ll stay in here. I won’t come out unless you tell me to.”

“If Ramsay walks through that door, kill him,” he said then.

“Alright,” she said determinedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent quite a bit of time editing and revising this chapter to get the right balance of smexy times and feels so I hope it turned out well!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon talks to the sheriff and has a nice little chat with Ramsay.

Jon cast a final glance over his shoulder at her standing there in her pretty dress with the rifle clutched in her small hands before he put on his hat and stepped out the door. Ghost was over by the barn, still howling. It was a mournful kind of sound… _like he’s already grieving over me_. The wolf had always been quiet, even as a pup. He would growl on occasion and give a yip once in a while but he rarely made much noise and he never howled. He was white and he was quiet. Ghost…the name certainly fit.

He went no further than three feet from the door as he eyed the five men approaching on horseback cautiously. To the casual observer, he seemed like a man ready to greet guests on his front step. But a more knowing eye would recognize the way he held himself like a coiled spring. His hands weren’t touching his guns. They hung down by his side… _nice and casual_. But when he wanted to Jon Snow could move those hands quicker than a rattlesnake could strike. He knew he might need to do just that.

 _‘Be quick or be dead,’_ Mance’s voice sang in his ear. _You’d know, Mance. You were quick until you were dead_. He’d not thought of the man that’d taught him the finer points of quick draw in years. _Hope that’s not a sign I’ll be seeing him again soon_.

But the sheriff was here and Jon had a notion that he wouldn’t be needing his guns this morning…not yet.

They all stopped about twenty feet from the house and Dondarrion got down off his horse but his deputy, Archer, had his rifle ready across his lap. It wasn’t aimed at Jon. That wouldn’t be manners to aim at a man on his own property when there wasn’t a clear reason to do so. All the same, Jon knew Archer could move quick when he wanted and it was rumored that his aim with that rifle was deadly. _I’d rather not find out right now if that’s true_.

Dondarrion had that serious look on his face, that law man’s look that spoke of all the trouble he’d seen and all the things he’d rather not have to see again. Jon had received that look when he’d first come to town.

 _‘We don’t care for trouble here,_ ’ the sheriff had said.

 _‘I ain’t here to make trouble,’_ Jon had replied.

Since then, things had been alright between them though Dondarrion always watched him close when he came to town as if blood and trouble just followed Jon around for the fun of it. But today, those eyes were looking at him more coldly than they had when they’d first met.

 _They probably think you stole her, took off with her against her will…at least that’s what the sheriff and his man think_.

Jon didn’t think Ramsay thought that at all. His eyes were full of fury despite the smirk he wore but he didn’t seem worried over Sansa. His two friends, Karstark and Umber, sat at his side waiting for his orders. Jon wondered if they’d be dumb enough to open fire despite the sheriff’s presence. He almost wished they would. He figured he could drop the two of them in the space of a heartbeat and that’d just leave Ramsay. He liked those odds here on his property with the house at his back. _But she’s inside…God Almighty, I’ve_ _got to get her away someplace. I can’t think straight if she’s in danger_.

“Snow,” Dondarrion called walking over towards him with his hands raised. “Miss Stark has gone missing.”

“She ain’t exactly missing, sheriff. She’s in the house,” Jon answered, keeping his eyes moving from one man’s eyes to the next. You could often tell what a man was planning to do next by his eyes.

“I reckon you know why I’m here then,” he said coming to a stop in front of Jon and taking his hat off to wipe the sweat off his brow.

“I do.”

“Mr. Bolton thinks you took off with his fiancée against her will last night,” he said then, looking back over his shoulder at Ramsay and putting his hat back on.

Ramsay wasn’t sitting there like a concerned lover would. He wasn’t even bothering to pretend. Most men that had a girl took from them wouldn’t be sitting up there so calm with a little smirk on their face. Jon reflected that if the roles were reversed he’d have never sat still, sheriff or no sheriff, if he thought his woman had been taken against her will and possibly raped to boot. _You think I_ _stole something that you think belongs to you. That’s all she is to you, a possession, a plaything. Not that she was ever really yours_.

“I brought her back here with me,” Jon said, keeping his eyes on Ramsay and his men.

“And she came here with you willingly?”

“She did.”

“Well…would you mind very much if I asked her that?”

“No, sheriff,” he said looking Dondarrion in the eye then. “You’re welcome to ask her but I’d rather her not have to come out here. Let me call to her and let her know you’re coming in.”

“Alright,” Dondarrion said.

He walked over to the door and told her the sheriff was coming in to ask her some questions. Then, he walked back over to the sheriff and waited for the man to head into his house. As soon as Dondarrion was in the door, Ramsay swung down off his horse and started walking towards Jon.

“Hold on, Mr. Bolton!” Archer cried, turning his rifle towards him.

“I’m not doing anything, deputy,” Ramsay said with a smile as he raised his own hands. “In fact, I’m laying my guns down here on the ground. I just want to have a little talk with Snow, man to man.” He made a show of laying his Smith and Wessons down before he continued walking over to Jon. When he was right up to him, the smile disappeared. “You know how this is going to end, don’t you?” he asked in that soft and sinister voice of his.

“With you killing me or me killing you, I reckon,” Jon replied.

“Oh goodness,” he laughed, looking back at his friends even though they couldn’t hear them. Jon had never heard a laugh that was so completely without mirth. He continued in that dead steady voice again, “No…you really think I’m that stupid? The only reason you’re not already dead is that old bitch called on the sheriff when she realized her charge was missing this morning and guessed that she’d left with you last night. If she hadn’t done that, I’d have just paid you a visit real quiet like earlier. I’d have killed you while you two were busy between the sheets.” He grinned again and continued, “No, this is how this works...once the sheriff is assured that the little tramp wasn’t abducted, he’s going to come out and tell me he’s sorry and all. And I’m going to leave with my two friends there. And once the sheriff decides he’s got other business to occupy him besides any bad blood between you and me, I’ll come back with my boys to pay you another visit. Want to know what we’re going to do then?” Jon didn’t reply. He kept his face impassive, waiting for Ramsay to continue. He figured he wouldn’t have to wait long and he was right about that. “When we return, I’ll skin that wolf of yours. You can watch us burn this little homestead of yours to the ground. I’ll make you watch while I rape your little red-haired whore in there. And I’ll let all my friends have a turn with her while you watch. Then, I’ll tie you to the back of my horse and go for a good long ride.”

“You seem awful confident,” Jon replied casually, hiding any signs that Ramsay’s threats bothered him in the least. “It’s interestin’ to me though that you won’t just fight me. I’d meet you wherever you say. A fair fight…it’d be all above board and legal. But the things you’re saying…raping Miss Stark? I don’t think that’d sit well with the sheriff or the mayor…plenty of people in town. Wonder how your daddy would like that?” Jon looked down at the ground for a moment and kicked at the dirt for a bit as though he had not a worry in the world before he looked back up at Ramsay and smiled. “I guess you’re not quite man enough to play for blood in a fair fight. It’s alright. I understand. Maybe I’d be intimidated, too. You’re a bit scared of fighting me…need your friends to back you up.”

Ramsay’s grin faltered as he obviously didn’t like being called cowardly or being made to feel like his father’s opinion mattered. He was visibly agitated but started wagging his finger at Jon and smiling again.

“That’s good…very good. You nearly had me there. But I don’t need to have a fair fight with you to sleep well at night. I just need you dead and her to pay. And if you were thinking of taking her and running off somewhere...well, please try. I’ve not went on a good hunt in years.” He stepped closer, his face inches from Jon’s. “I’ll follow you till the ends of the Earth to take her from you and see you dead. No one takes what’s mine.”

Dondarrion opened the door just then and eyed the two of them standing inches apart and staring each other down. Jon could feel his pulse thrumming through his veins and if he were a green boy his hands would’ve probably been shaking. But he’d schooled those hands to be still far too long ago for that to happen now. The sheriff sniffed and then hawked and spit on the ground to ease the tension in the air.

“She came of her own free will, Mr. Bolton, and says she’s staying. You got anything else to add?”

“No, sheriff,” Ramsay answered at once, turning to the sheriff with that smirk again. “I guess she just wasn’t the girl for me then.” He walked back over to his horse after collecting his guns from the ground and told his friends they were heading out. “I’ll see you around, Snow,” he called once he’d mounted. “That white wolf of yours would make a fine pelt come winter.” Karstark and Umber followed his lead and rode off after him.

“You know he won’t let this go, right?” the sheriff said quietly then.

“I know,” Jon answered.

 

* * *

 

 

Her stomach was in knots and her hands were sweating gripping the rifle. Tension was tearing her apart. _Can’t see much. Can’t hear much. And no idea how things are going out_ _there_. She’d nearly jumped out of her skin when he’d called out to her and said the sheriff was coming in. She had hoped maybe he’d come in with the sheriff but he’d stayed out there.

The sheriff was a nice man and he was clearly embarrassed to ask about her leaving the dance with Jon Snow. He asked if she’d come of her own free will. _‘Yes, I asked him to_ _take me with him.’_ He asked if Jon had done anything to her. _‘Yes, he did plenty of things to me…but I wanted all those things.’_ The poor man had flushed scarlet at that and asked if she wanted to stay or go back with Mr. Bolton. _‘I don’t ever want to go back with Mr. Bolton and I’m staying with Jon Snow.’_

It was hard to focus on much the man was saying and asking or her answers. As soon as she’d heard Ramsay’s voice and that laugh of his on the other side of the door, her heart had taken off at a gallop. _He’s right there on the other side of the door_. Sansa wondered if she could just walk right past the sheriff, open the door and shoot Ramsay. _No…that’d_ _be murder, Sansa. You want to lay in Jon’s arms again or go and meet the hangman?_

She couldn’t hear what they were saying which was only making it worse. She was about ready to bust when Dondarrion finally said he’d see himself out. She started to follow him to the door but she remembered the look in Jon’s eye when he’d told her to stay inside. _And I don’t want to see Ramsay anyway_.

The door opened again at last and he walked in. Sansa nearly dropped the rifle she was so relieved. He took it from her hands and laid it on the table. He was looking her over, making sure she was alright. Those dark eyes of his seemed satisfied that she was and he nodded to her before he turned. He was fixing to walk off again when she couldn’t stand another second of it all.

“Jon,” she said. Her voice was low…it was barely a whimper.

She wanted to beg him to hold her and tell her everything was going to be just fine. She wanted him to kiss her and make her forget that the last twenty minutes had even happened. She was ashamed of the frightened sound in her voice. She didn’t want to be some scared little girl that he had to worry about protecting on top of everything else. She didn’t want him to see her as some helpless little lady that couldn’t do nothing. _Then, don’t be scared and helpless acting_.

“What can I do? Can I help you some?” she asked and was pleased that her voice sounded more steady now.

She should’ve known he wasn’t fooled by her bravado. He seemed to understand her pretty well at this point…as well as any man ever understood a woman anyway. He walked over to her from whatever task he was fixing to do and pulled her into his arms and held her close. He kissed her softly on the cheek and then her lips and told her everything was going to be just fine. She felt the lump forming in her throat and clung to him for dear life then, hating that it was _his_ dear life that was in danger. Those tears she hated to let fall fell as surely as the rain that had fallen last night.

“I’ll protect you. I promise,” he said at last when she’d had her cry.

She knew there were more important things he probably needed to do. Whatever Ramsay had said, whatever threats he’d made, she knew Jon needed to be thinking about how to deal with it. She wanted to know what threats he’d made and wanted to help Jon plan if she could. But just then, she had wanted those strong arms around her and she had wanted those sweet reassurances whispered in her ear even if they were more like wishes than promises. Jon Snow hadn’t let her down ever and she hoped he wouldn’t start today.

 

* * *

 

 

Jon had waited until the sheriff left before he’d entered the house. She’d been frightened and he didn’t want that. He just hoped his words would mean something. He loved her so and that ache in his chest got to be nearly too much when she was crying. He wished they could just be left alone.

She followed him out to the barn as he saddled his horse. He went back in to fetch his money and put it in a sack and tied it to the horse. He got the rifle and told her to fetch anything she thought she might want to take.

He wasn’t going to run from this and he wasn’t going to be able to get her away like he wanted but he had a place he thought he could stow her. He knew that it was unlikely Dondarrion could protect them for long and it wasn’t Jon’s way to ask others for things regardless. He wasn’t going to hang around and wait for Ramsey to come back as promised either. _No telling when a mad dog might return_.

“What’re we gonna do?” she asked.

“I’m gonna kill Ramsay or die trying. I’ve gotta take you someplace safe first.” She wanted to argue he could tell but he kissed her before she could get a word out. “Sansa, I can’t fight him if I’m worrying over you. I’ve got to believe your safe or my head won’t be thinking straight and I’ll make a mistake and then I’ll be dead. You’re what matters to me…please, don’t argue.”

“Alright…I won’t argue with you.”

“Come on,” he said helping her up onto his horse before he whistled for Ghost. “It’s a bit out of the way and I want to get to town before it gets too late in the day.”

They rode to Tormund’s place in silence. She held on to him tight and he could tell she was afraid of letting him go. He could’ve told her he didn’t want her letting him go either. He thought about what she’d said this morning during their argument about a baby and he felt ashamed. He should’ve thought of that. He didn’t want to leave her with a bastard child to raise alone…he didn’t want to leave her at all.

Jon didn’t like asking others for help but he trusted Tormund. He trusted him enough to leave Sansa in his keeping. Tormund knew how to use a gun but he was more the kind of man that let his fists do the talking in a fight so there was no use asking for his help with Ramsay. All of Ramsay’s boys would be armed and carrying knives as well no doubt. And Tormund had suffered enough after losing his wife and so many of his friends to disease. Jon didn’t want to burden him anymore than he was already getting ready to do.

“Who’s this Tormund?” Sansa asked right before they arrived at his place.

“Tormund Giantsbane, Tall-Talker and Husband of Bears,” Jon had answered with a smile. “He’s entertaining, that’s for certain. He’s six feet tall with bushy red hair and a beard but he’s really one of the nicest men you’ll ever meet. He’ll keep you safe.” _I hope_.

“You keep me safe,” she said holding on tighter to him. “And, who’s gonna keep you safe?”

He didn’t respond to that. She’d wanted him to run off with her but they both knew Ramsay hadn’t lied about following them to the ends of the Earth. He would never let this go without blood. And Jon had done enough drifting. High Heart was his home now…until Sansa told him otherwise at least. He didn’t want to run and be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life. And he wanted to keep his promise to her.

They arrived at Tormund’s and Jon told the man all he decently could of Sansa coming home with him. Then, he told him about the sheriff coming with Ramsay and the things that Ramsay had said when the sheriff wasn’t within earshot. He told him what he was planning to do and finally, asked Tormund what he wanted from him. He just stood there in front of his house with his massive arms folded across his chest, looking down on Jon with a grim look. Jon began to wonder if he was getting ready to be told no, that he didn’t appreciate him bringing trouble to his place. _I can’t say I’d blame him if he did._

But when the big man finally did speak, he surprised Jon a bit with his question. “You lay with her?” he asked with his thick accent. There was clearly some disbelief in his tone though he was waggling his impressive eyebrows knowingly at Jon and jerking his chin towards Sansa.

“You shouldn’t ask that,” Jon replied but he couldn’t help the grin that broke out across his face as soon as he said it and he ended up giving a sheepish nod.

“Har!” he laughed, slapping Jon on the back until he nearly knocked the wind out of him. “You’re a lucky bastard, Snow!”

“I’m standing right here, you know,” Sansa said with her hands on her hips and a displeased look on her face.

“Come, girl. Get in my house. I’ll get you a drink,” he said. “Is your wolf staying here, Jon Snow?”

“Yeah. I don’t want him getting shot. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind keeping him for me, Tormund.”

“Very well…so long as he stays away from my chickens. Good luck, Jon,” he finished, holding out his hand.

“Thank you,” Jon said, shaking it. “You’ve been a good friend to me. I’m hoping that I won’t be bringing trouble to your doorstep asking you to watch over her but I know there’s a good chance that I am.”

The big man just smiled and shook his head. Jon grabbed the saddle bag he’s filled with his money and passed it to her silently as Tormund went back in the cabin. Suddenly, it was just him and her and Ghost standing outside. He wanted to say what he was feeling but he never had been much at saying pretty words to pretty girls.

“Sansa…”

“You come back to me, Jon Snow,” she said rushing to his arms, trying to hide the tears that had formed in her eyes again.

He took her in his arms and pulled her up tight, loving the feel of her softness and the sweet smell of her. He inhaled her scent.

“I love you,” he said as he kissed her sweet and gentle on the lips.

“I love you, too,” she answered. She looked angry more than anything now as she fought to keep those tears from falling again. _She hates crying_ , he thought as he smiled to see that steely look in her eye once more.

Jon nodded to her and walked away while he still could. He climbed up on his horse and looked back at her standing next to Ghost.

“I’ll come back to you, sweet girl. I’ll come back to you if ever God will allow it,” he said before he turned to head towards town, leaving his heart in her keeping. _I’m better off without a heart for what I mean to do today._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was definitely channeling some of Ramsay's letter and their little pre-Battle talk from Episode 06x09 in the conversation between Jon and Ramsay so I hope that came across well.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon heads to town reflecting on some of his past and gets delayed by a chance meeting. Sansa has a hard time waiting and worrying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING-Jon's memories include mention of terrible past violence done to a Native American tribe. And Bronn relates some disturbing news regarding Ros and Ramsay but no real details are given.

_"Show me how you draw,” Mance had said._

_There were three other young men there watching but he didn’t mind an audience back then. Jon had grinned and drew his gun before you could’ve said ‘please’. He was quick as lightning jerking that pistol and he aimed it at the man. He hadn’t been taught manners yet about not pointing guns at men you don’t mean to kill, especially men you were hoping would hire you for a job. He was only 19 and full of piss, determined to prove himself._

_But the old man had seen enough young bloods in his time to not take any offense at the boy’s lack of manners. Jon probably should’ve stopped there with his display. Instead, he’d spun that old Colt round his fingers like he was playing a child’s game of hoops or flipping a coin. His hands moved quick as he tossed the gun from one hand to the other with a flourish. He’d spin that steel high right in front of the man’s face, then be twirling it low near his own hip and with each pass he’d bring it up to aim at the man before he’d do a new trick. The other young men were hooting and hollering out praise and encouragement. They’d been impressed. He’d re-holstered the pistol thinking the older man would be impressed, too. He was wrong about that._

_“Who taught you that?” Jon started to answer when Mance had cut him off. “You know what? Don’t matter. Any goddamn fool taught you that better be eating dirt by now. And the next time you draw a bead on me and you’re not aiming to kill me, I’ll whip your ass. You think you’re some kind of daisy twirling that gun around? Fancy tricks don’t mean shit in a fight, boy. Remember that. Accuracy and speed’s what matters when the lead is flying. Try that spinning nonsense in a real fight and see if you don’t wind up dead meat.” Jon had been angered by that response. He didn’t like being shamed in front of the others and his temper had been hard to keep in check back then. But before he could do something even dumber, the man had laughed and said, “You’re quick at least…and young enough to unlearn the stupid shit you were just doing. You’re hired.”_

Mance might be dead now but Jon had learned a good deal during the year he’d rode with him and his posse. Mance called them a posse but they weren’t outlaws or anything. They worked as guns for hire though and Jon killed his first man during those days. _More than one._ They’d ride along on cattle drives for protection when the ranchers were at war with each other and trying to pick off their competition. They’d been sent to larger mining operations where the miners needed protection from thieves as well. And they’d occasionally take sides for a fee in matters of dispute between farmers, ranchers, rich men or what have you. If he was getting paid, Jon didn’t question the jobs…until one day he’d been forced to.

They’d been hired by a wealthy rancher to clear some squatters off his land. But as it turned out the squatters weren’t squatters at all. They were Indians, a small tribe of Navajo, that had lived on those lands time out of mind. There were young men in the tribe but the majority of them were women and children and old people. There might have been forty of them all told. Mance had twenty men in his posse then, all armed. The Navajo wouldn’t have stood much of a chance if they’d chosen to fight, having very few firearms.

Jon didn’t like the job. They didn’t want to leave their home and it was clear the rancher meant for them to be gone…one way or the other. Mance hadn’t liked the job either. He’d talked to the elders of the little tribe. He liked them. Mance had always said he felt a sort of kinship with them anyway on account of having some Indian blood himself and having had an Indian woman that he’d loved when he was younger.

Mance had taken Jon and two other men with him to return the rancher’s payment and said the tribe wanted to stay and him and his men wouldn’t be killing no women or children and driving the people from their land. He suggested that perhaps the rancher could talk to the elders. There weren’t that many of them and the rancher had nearly a thousand acres. He thought maybe some agreement could be reached and he volunteered to do the talking if need be. The rancher had smiled and nodded at Mance like he was listening to what he had to say…right before giving the signal to his own six men. They killed Mance before he could even draw. Jon drew and started firing but the other two men from the posse were dead before they knew what was happening and he was hopelessly outnumbered. He’d taken bullets in the arm and leg as he climbed on Mance’s horse, his own having been shot in the gunfire, and fled. At the time, he didn’t realize the rancher’s money was still in the saddlebag with him.

Jon had been down for a time with his wound and hid out in the hills. It was there he’d found Ghost alone and half-starved. He was hurting bad but he’d been gentle with the pup and offered him some of his rations from the saddle bag. He managed to fill his canteen up with fresh water before the fever started. He’d been in a bad way for a time after that. He’d managed to dig out the lead and bind his wounds but the poison was in him. He’d felt the little wolf’s red eyes on him that night when he started shivering with chills while burning up at the same time. He woke the next morning to find the pup curled up against him. The fever was still there but he wasn’t racked with chills anymore. Two days later the fever broke and by then he knew he wouldn’t be riding off and leaving the pup alone. It was the first time he felt like there was someone he needed to look after besides himself. Back then, Ghost was so little he could ride across his lap or tucked into his coat even.

Once he’d healed, he tried to find Mance’s posse but there were no signs of them. He found the tribe though…well, he found their bodies anyway. They’d been left for the vultures. Jon didn’t know who the rancher got to do the deed. He hoped it wasn’t any of the men he’d rode with and had considered his brothers in a way. It was a memory he’d never forget, much as he might want to. In a life full of hard things, that had been the hardest. The dead men and women was bad enough but the children…seeing those little children dead because some men couldn’t see past their own wants and didn’t understand anything but hate…sometimes there just aren’t enough words and this was one of those times. The air reeked of smoke and corruption and Jon could hear wooden wind catchers or chimes that the Navajo had made rattling in the breeze. It was then and there that he named his wolf. Ghost…the name certainly fit.

In his rage and desire for vengeance, Jon had snuck onto the rancher's lands that night meaning to kill him.  He crept past the couple of men he had posted as guards.  They were talking together and not anticipating any trouble.  Jon made his way up to the house.  He saw him through the window and drew his pistol.  It was then that Jon saw the rancher's wife and children sitting in the room with him.  He could've just killed the man.  He had wanted to kill the man.  But he couldn't bring himself to take the man's life with his wife and children sitting there, too.  After that, he’d figured it was best to just clear out with Ghost and find something else to do for a living.

 

Jon shook off the memory of Mance and those days. He rode towards town feeling lost and lonely without her pressed up against him and without Ghost following. The sun was beating down on his back from high above but he felt chilled in a way. Like his body was already turning cold. He didn’t mean to die. He didn’t mean to leave her all alone. But he was no fool and he was heading to town, seeking a fight and he’d likely get one. _But he won’t fight me alone. And just as he said to me the day I met her, I’m only one man. I didn’t fare so well last time I faced odds of six to one. And what will Roose Bolton do if I win? Stand by and ignore the fact I killed his son?_

Jon stopped at the creek to let his horse drink. He was a good horse and the day was hot. Jon never had come up with a name for him. He was just a horse. Ghost had a name cause Ghost was a wolf. _And not just any old wolf_. It made sense to Jon anyway.

And perhaps, Jon needed a few minutes to reflect on things. The things Ramsay had said. The threats he had made. They’d bothered him even though he refused to show it. The creek was chuckling along happily after the rains and it was soothing to his jangled nerves.

He sat at the edge of the creek thinking of their meeting there a few days back when he’d hid under the queen’s wreath vines and watched her bathe. He thought of her calling to him and making him come out to talk to her. He smiled to himself now to think of that day when Sansa was something so lovely but so far out of his reach. His mind drifted back to the night then and all the ways he’d held her and loved her. But the part that moved him the most was the memory of her laying her pretty head on his chest and telling him she loved him.

He was about to get up when he heard footsteps and jumped to his feet. _This place is suddenly awful popular_ , he thought. He heard whistling and soon recognized Bronn, the faro dealer, walking down the bank. Jon gave a wave and started to walk to his horse.

“What you doing here, mate?” Bronn called in that friendly way he had.

“Nothing…just thinking some while the horse has a drink. What’re you doing?” Jon asked looking around to see if they were truly alone. The faro dealer seemed alright but Jon wouldn’t necessarily say he trusted him. _Gold’s what motivates you, I believe_.

Bronn held up the pole he was carrying. “Just fishing a bit. Needed to clear my head of some things.”

“Catch anything?”

“Nah…that’s why I was moving further up the creek. Thought I might get a few bites up here. You like fishing, Snow?”

“Maybe…can’t say I’ve done much since I was a boy.”

There was something different about the faro dealer today. He wasn’t in his fancy suit he usually wore at Hobb’s but that wasn’t it. He looked more down than Jon had ever seen him. Bronn plopped down on the bank close to where Jon was standing, cast his line and invited Jon to sit. Jon could’ve just got back on his horse and said good-bye but something pulled at him to stay just a bit and he sat down next to the man instead.

“You fished when you was a lad?” Bronn asked after a few minutes.

“Yeah…it helped keep me fed. There was a creek near where I lived kinda like this one. I wasn’t much at cooking them though and I got awful tired of fish.”

Jon remembered being a barefoot boy of eleven running down to the creek with his pole to catch a fish. Old Nan had given him a hook on the condition that he bring her back one once he finally caught some. So, when he’d finished helping her with her goats that day, he’d run down there. It took a while but he didn’t have any place to be anyway. He’d ended up catching two. She’d asked if he needed any help with preparing his but he’d grown a bit proud about asking for help from others and he told her he knew how. She’d grinned that nearly toothless grin of hers and told him to go on home and cook his fish then.

Bronn laughed and asked how Jon cooked his fish. He smiled when Jon said he’d just cut off their heads and throw them in a frying pan. He shook his head when Jon admitted they’d often end up sticking to the pan and he’d have to scrape them up and parts would be burnt and stuck to the pan while other parts would still taste all fishy and half-cooked and he was forever crunching on fish bones that he’d missed.

“See, you was doing it all wrong,” Bronn said. “Nothing wrong with frying a fish…nothing at all. That’s my favorite way to eat ‘em. But you can’t cook them too hot. You cut off their heads, wash ‘em up, then debone ‘em. Who wants to eat nasty old fish bones? Then you want to soak them in some milk. Buttermilk is good if you like that. Then you toss them with some flour or…cornmeal maybe. You add some salt and pepper if you have it…”

“I didn’t have no salt or pepper.”

The discussion about the proper way to prepare fish went on longer than Jon had anticipated since Bronn would get distracted when he got a nibble on his line. Jon looked up and noticed the sun more than half way across the sky.

“Hellfire…I can’t be sitting here! I got to go!” he exclaimed as he got up hurriedly. “If he’s done something to her while I sit here talking about cooking fish, I’ll kick my own ass and then eat a bullet from my own gun!” he said to himself.

“Whoa…whoa, mate!” Bronn said rising to his feet. “What’re you on about?”

“Ramsay! I got to go fight Ramsay before he does something and hurts Sansa!”

“You got a meeting with him?”

“No! I’m goin’ to town to call him out for a fight. I figured it’s the closest I’ll get to a fair fight with him.” Jon mounted his horse and turned to say goodbye when he felt a tug on the reins in his hands. Bronn was standing at the horse’s head holding the reins and looking at him curiously. “Let go,” he said. “I need to go!”

“I’ll let go,” Bronn said. “But why don’t you wait for me to fetch my horse? You can tell me what’s going on as we ride to town.”

“This isn’t your concern,” Jon said.

“Aye, it’s not…but maybe I want to make it my concern. Maybe I’ve got some concerns of my own,” Bronn said with a smile… _the cold-eyed smile of a killer_.

 

* * *

 

Things had been just as cordial as could be at first. Tormund had fetched her a drink. A bit of wine was the strongest drink Sansa had ever had. And this was stronger than that. She coughed and choked while he laughed. He had a big, boisterous laugh that made her smile despite nearly choking and the other circumstances of the day.

“What was that?” she sputtered.

“Akvavit,” he answered once he stopped laughing. “It’s what we drink in the old country.”

“Jon said you’ve been here for several years.”

“I have. The other men and I from my community would make it here. I only have a little left now,” he finished sadly.

“Jon said your wife died of small pox.” He nodded and she continued, “I’m sorry.”

“Snow said you’d been sent out to marry Bolton’s son.”

“Yes.”

“My wife and I…she was sent to me from back home. She was my cousin. We ended up happy though.”

“I wouldn’t have ended up happy with Ramsay.”

“No…I don’t think you would’ve,” Tormund said thoughtfully as he scratched at his beard and watched her. “Do you love him?”

“Jon, you mean?” He nodded and she said, “Yes…very much. I know it sounds funny but it just…I don’t know but I think he’s who I was really meant to find out here. Ramsay was what brought me but not what was intended for me.” Sansa shook her head at herself. _Lord, you sound plum crazy, girl_. “You know Jon well?” she asked to change the subject.

“He came here not long after my wife died. He was a stranger to me but…he seemed to understand when I needed to talk and when I wanted to be left alone. He’s used to being alone but I don’t think it’s good for him. I hope you’ll be happy together like my wife and I were.”

They’d talked like that for a while. But the longer she sat and the longer they talked about Jon, the more anxious she became for him. _We shouldn’t have let him go alone_.

She tried to be patient. She really did. She tried to sit there and distract herself and believe that everything would be fine and Jon wouldn’t fail in what he meant to do. But then she kept thinking on Ramsay’s boys and Mr. Bolton. Ramsay would expect his boys to help him and they were always lurking about, ready for their master’s call. And Mr. Bolton…Ramsay could hide behind his daddy if things went south on him and claim Jon attacked him after stealing his woman. Some of the townsfolk would readily believe the tale.

 _I could go to Cella and see if she thought her daddy would listen_. Mayor Baratheon was a big man who liked to talk and drink but Sansa wasn’t sure he’d be willing to listen. _I_ _could go to the sheriff and tell him the things Ramsay said to Jon while he was inside talking to me_.

It was then, when she tried to talk Tormund into taking her to town to find some help, that the arguing had started. _I’m destined to argue today, I guess. At least, he won’t be_ _able to distract me the way Jon does_.

“Gud hjelpe meg, woman…you are stubborn!” Tormund bellowed at last after they’d nearly talked and shouted themselves hoarse.

“We just can’t let him go off like this alone. I can’t stand this waiting around any longer! You’re his friend and you’re just content to sit here waiting?”

“Jon Snow said to keep you here. We stay here. He said to keep you safe. You’re safe here.”

He said it like he was explaining things to a child. She wasn’t a child. Sansa wanted to curse and shout and shake the man but she figured that’d do her no good. She wanted to scream in frustration. She didn’t know if there was anything she could do to change what was happening but just sitting here was doing no good. She got up and walked to the door.

“Where do you think you’re going, girl?”

“Just outside. I wanna see Ghost and I need to use the necessary.”

Tormund eyed her suspiciously but that shut him up. _You can look at me like that all you want but you’ll let me go to the privy alone at least._ He nodded to her and she headed outside and started calling for Ghost. She found him eyeing the chickens in their pen.

“Can’t make a wolf anything other than a wolf, I suppose,” she said walking up to lay a hand on his soft, white fur. “You don’t like being left here either, do you?” she asked. Ghost looked up at her with those red eyes of his. She knelt down in the dirt next to Ghost and put her head down on his neck. “Would we just be in his way? Would we cause him to make some mistake like he says, you think? I don’t wanna do this wrong but something just makes me feel like I need to be there before this is all over and done. Is that my heart, my head or my fear talking?”

As Sansa knelt there, she started thinking of meeting Ghost and Jon that day in town. When she tried to count the words that had passed between them that day, she realized there hadn’t been all that many. _How could I have known then how that chance meeting in town would change my life? Would I have given the handsome stranger more than a_ _passing glance without the wolf at his side?_

“That was you, Ghost. You drew me to him. And I’ll love you all my life for that.” Sansa sniffled and realized she was about to cry…again. _Dammit, I hate to cry! What good these_ _old tears ever do a girl?!_ Ghost started to back away from her. “I’m sorry, Ghost. Don’t know why I gotta cry so much today when I was so happy last night.”

Sansa wiped her eyes and started reflecting on the night and the morning. She liked thinking on the way his dark eyes had sparkled when they made love that morning after he’d said he loved her and she’d told him she loved him, too. Then, she started hoping. Maybe if things went their way today she could write to Mama and Bran. Maybe her and Jon could find a different sort of life for her mama and her brother away from Mr. Baelish. It’d be hard for Mama to adjust to not living in a fine house but Bran would love an adventure. _Just like the stories we’d read together_.

As she was busy hoping, Ghost gave a growl and Sansa’s head snapped up. “What’s the matter boy?” Ghost didn’t answer of course. _He’s a wolf, Sansa. What’s he gonna say?_ But he did turn and start walking away…towards town. “Ghost! You come back here! Jon said to stay and I…I can’t stay here if you leave, too!” she said with a choked kind of sob.

Ghost didn’t listen. He started to break to a run and Sansa stamped her foot to keep from bawling like a little girl. Then, she ran the other way…to Tormund’s barn. He had two old horses and she chose to saddle his mare. _You’re an old girl but I reckon you can still get me to town_ , she thought as she threw a saddle over the horse’s back. _I love you and_ _I’m coming to you. God, I hope I’m not messing up but I can’t wait here worrying any longer._

 

* * *

 

 

Jon was nearly to town…and he was not alone after all. It wasn’t Ghost following him this time though. Bronn’s ‘concerns’ had sent him seeking some peace that day at the creek with his fishing pole. But love was bringing him back to town with Jon…and hate was, too.

He’d come to America twenty-five years earlier on a steamer from England. He’d spent time in Boston and then New York but he’d traveled out west nearly twenty years ago. He’d done many of the things that Jon had done to get by and to survive. He’d just done them years ahead of him.

But he’d settled in High Heart about eight years ago after a chance encounter led to striking up a friendship with Hobb on a train ride and Hobb had told him all about his plans to open a saloon with girls and gambling. Bronn had played poker in his day. He’d made a living out of it at times. He was good at it. He could read men’s eyes and know what they were holding most of the time the same as if they’d had a mirror at their back. It was a handy skill for card player. It was a handy skill for a gunslinger, too.

“Now faro on the other hand…well, that’s not really a way to make a living. The odds always favor the House. So, I figured, why not be the House?”

He’d become Hobb’s faro dealer and resident protection for the saloon and the girls and he got twenty-five percent of the house’s take on the faro table, plus a cut of the saloon’s profits as well.

They’d become a little family of sorts in Bronn’s eyes. Maybe it wasn’t the kind of family Reverend Poole would’ve approved of but him and Hobb were friends and Bronn watched over the girls that Hobb employed. He admitted he normally wouldn’t lay with any of them.

“To bloody complicated under the circumstances,” he said with a shrug. “I mean, I know what they do to earn their coin and getting involved with a…well, it’s complicated. But, ‘there’s no fool like an old fool,’ my mum used to say and she’d probably roll over in her grave to know what a fool she birthed.” He’d taken a fancy to Ros the past few months…more than just a passing fancy in truth. “She’s had a hard life but she’s kind-hearted as can be and she’s more than just…” He eyed Jon close then and Jon felt a flush creeping up his neck. Bronn knew he’d laid with her before though it’d been several months since the last time. “It’s complicated,” he finished before he told Jon the rest of the tale.

The other night, Ramsay and his boys had come into the saloon looking for a good time. But Ramsay and his boys’ idea of a good time usually wasn’t a good time for anyone else. Karstark wasn’t with them but Umber was. So, it was five of them at the saloon, all going heeled and looking for trouble, and Bronn on his lonesome other than the shotgun Hobb kept behind the bar. The five of them had drank and yapped for a while but Bronn said Ramsay was quiet. Umber lost some money at Bronn’s table and Ramsay was watching Ros sitting on Bronn’s lap and chatting in his ear.

“I didn’t like the way he was watching her…the way he was watching us. I should’ve sent her upstairs and told her to stay in her room for the night.”

“ _You have lovely hair and pretty eyes_ ,” Ramsay had said looking at Ros. Ros had looked down at the floor before flashing him her usual smile for a customer and thanking him. _“Do you mind?”_ he’d asked Bronn then. Bronn had started to object but Ros patted his shoulder and stood up. She’d been making her living for several years and she wasn’t easily intimidated.

“‘They touch me but I don’t ever let them _really_ touch me,’ she told me once,” Bronn said looking away for a minute.

Umber had taken Shae with him upstairs and Ramsay took Ros.

As Jon listened to the tale, he realized something that Bronn wasn’t aware of. As it turned out, this had happened the same night after Sansa had met Jon by the creek that day and he’d brought her home on his horse. Ros had reddish brown hair. It wasn’t the fiery red of Sansa’s but apparently Ramsay decided to make a substitute of poor Ros.

“She said he kept calling her wife. Both girls had a rough night but Ramsay wanted Ros to hurt and hurt she did. And I couldn’t do a damned thing but sit down there and listen to it. No other man there would fight them. Most of ‘em stared at their drinks and pretended to be deaf or just up and left. And those three scoundrels of his sat there watching me, daring me to do something when I couldn’t do a damned thing but either sit there or get myself killed.”

Jon didn’t think he would’ve just sat there himself but then again getting himself killed wouldn’t have done much good either. “So, you’re tired of sitting today then?” Jon asked, wondering if this was a good idea or not to let the older man join him.

“Maybe…why you so determined to fight him today?” Bronn asked.

“Cause I thought maybe catching him unawares and challenging him in town with other folks around was the best chance I’ve got. And I just want this done. I want her safe and I want him dead and beyond our worries.” They had entered town and Jon’s eyes were busy looking for signs of Ramsay. Bronn nodded to himself at Jon’s words. “You don’t have to do this. I don’t have that much money or anything…” Jon started to say.

“I don’t want your money. Hobb likes you, lad. And Hobb’s been good to me. And you want your woman safe. I’d like to think I could do this for the girls…for Ros especially. I didn’t help them that night. I sat there valuing my own hide too much maybe…I’ve not slept well since then. Anyhow, I haven’t had a decent fight in years. A man misses the way it feels when everything is on the line…when being quick is what matters. Everything just seems to be more intense, more real in those moments. It can pass in a blur and yet every second is heightened and drawn out to the length of a day. Bah…I sound like a ruddy poet. You know what I mean at all?”

“Maybe a bit,” Jon admitted. He’d not been in a real fight in years either. _Not in three years_.

“Besides…I’m curious to see if time has slowed me down yet.”

_Yeah…me, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter-time to call Ramsay out and have a gunfight.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shoot-out...Part 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It got long and I had to split it.

The town of High Heart was laid out like a cross. The main street was long and straight with only one true cross street. The train station was up past the top of the cross and coming from his home Jon would enter town at the foot of the cross.

There were a couple of less-reputable saloons he’d pass first along with a brothel of the lowest kind. These were followed by the stables, a warehouse and the silver mining company’s offices. The community hall, the church and the blacksmith came next. The bank and jail were on the other end nearer the train station. _Where will he be on a Sunday_ _though?_

Ramsay liked his regular shave according to Sansa but the barber wasn’t open today. She’d also said Roose Bolton would sometimes go into the bank on Sundays when it was closed to check over things but Ramsay hadn’t gone with him any since she’d been in town.

The mercantile was at one corner of the intersection of the main street and the cross street with Hobb’s right before it on the left. The barbershop was catty-corner across from Gage’s store. The Bolton’s house was down the side street to the right. The mayor lived down the side street on the left. On up towards the train station was a hotel, the telegraph office and a couple of other businesses besides the bank and jail.

There was an alley that ran along parallel to the main street and went behind Hobb’s. Bronn suggested they go down that way so he could fetch another gun, some more bullets and a couple of knives.

“I’m not planning on needing a knife,” Jon said.

“I wasn’t planning on getting into a fight today. Never hurts to be prepared,” Bronn responded. “Besides…got to put my lucky fishing pole up.”

They entered Hobb’s from the back. It was quiet in the saloon on a Sunday. The girls were all off this day though Hobb would still open the place for drinks and socializing. Ros was up at the bar talking with Hobb and she immediately went to Bronn when she saw them come in. Jon could see the bruises on her arms and neck along with a black eye and he felt a sudden rush of fury thinking that Ramsay had done those things to her and would’ve done them to Sansa if he could’ve. Hobb came over to him wanting a word or two but, in his anger, Jon had no wish to discuss anything.

Bronn said a few words in Ros’s ear and then Jon could hear her urgently whispering to Bronn. It sounded like an argument was brewing between them. _I don’t have time for this_ , Jon thought impatiently. He shook his head at himself and tried to remind himself that the man wanted to help him. _Two against six is better than one against six_. It wasn’t his way to let emotion carry him away when there was a fight ahead of him but the momentary peace he’d felt at the creek had left him and he was ready for blood. Fortunately, the argument seemed to die out before it really got started. Bronn gave Ros a quick kiss and said something that brought a faint smile to her lips before he headed back to Jon.

“Seems Sheriff Dondarrion and his men got called away to Tumblestone as soon as they came back to town this morning. The Hound’s gang is supposedly back in the area and the sheriff there asked Dondarrion for some help chasing them down.”

The Hound’s gang of outlaws hadn’t been around in at least a year or more. There were rumors that the Hound himself was either dead or had left the gang but it didn’t change the fact that they were a fearsome group of men. Dondarrion and his men had gone on more than one more chase for them but hadn’t succeeded in catching and hanging them all yet.

“Well, I guess we won’t need to be worrying about Dondarrion getting in the way of things here today then,” Jon said with a grim look.

Bronn grinned at that and said, “Guess not.”

 

* * *

 

 

She hadn’t seen any sign of Ghost but Tormund had caught up to her a when she was still a mile from town. _Should’ve known I’d pick the slower horse_. He hadn’t yelled at her though she suspected he might’ve liked to. He had pulled up next to her and whistled at the mare and she’d immediately stopped her meandering little trot which was the fastest she seemed to want to move.

“Where you going, girl?” Tormund asked once he was next to her.

Sansa looked down at the winded old mare and over at the big man on the broken-down gelding that didn’t seem so broken-down at the moment. _I should’ve picked you, I_ _guess_.

“Ghost left,” she said refusing to look him in the eye.

“And?” he prompted. Sansa could’ve sworn he sounded amused which got her hackles up.

“Ghost left and was heading to town and I thought maybe I could bring him back. Jon would want him safe.”

Tormund chuckled to himself and scratched at his beard for a bit. “Jon wants you safe. You think the wolf needs your protection, girl?”

“No! Well…maybe,” she answered stubbornly. _Which wolf we talking about?_ “I’m not spending any more of my life waiting for things to happen to me with me having no say. I’m done with that. I don’t wanna sit around and let others decide things for me. I wanna help him…if I can.” She looked up Tormund and found his eyes were watching her intently so she continued, “I wanted to talk to the sheriff. I was hoping maybe he’d help Jon. I thought I might even go see the mayor. I’m friends with his daughter. Well, we’re sort of friends, I guess.” He was grinning at her and that wasn’t improving her mood. “You can go on back to your place and be safe there if you want. I didn’t ask you to come. I want to help my man in any way that I can. And I didn’t ask nothing of you so you can stop smirking at me like that!” she finished as her temper got the better of her.

He gave a quick and booming sort of laugh and said, “So, you think you could just go riding into town and talk to the sheriff and the mayor and it’d be as simple as that?”

“No. Maybe. Why’re you so calm? I figured you’d be angry with me.”

“I am but I’m trying to get better at listening to my good sense. Used to, I would’ve have ridden off with your man and delighted in beating that ass and his friends to death with my bare hands if I got the chance. Now though…well, I told him I’d keep you safe.” Sansa drew breath to argue and he put up his hand. “I’m not making you go back to my place. We’ll find Dondarrion if we can. I’ll take you to the mayor’s house even if you like. But we must be careful.”

“I know that! You think I want to run into Ramsay and his boys? You imagine I want to put myself anywhere near them? You think I’m a fool that’d do that to Jon?”

“I don’t know what to think other than you are a stubborn girl… _kysset av ild_ , you are.”

“What?” she asked scrunching up her nose.

“Your hair…kissed by fire. You’ve got a temper to match it, too,” he said with a laugh.

Sansa couldn’t argue with that so she nodded giving him a small smile despite herself. She let Tormund lead them on to town. He told her they would enter town from another direction and they would speak to Dondarrion and Mayor Baratheon if they could and then he’d take her someplace that might be a bit safer in town.

 

* * *

 

 

As he stepped out the front entrance at Hobb’s, he was suddenly struck by the heat. The sun was still high in the sky on the August day as it was just an hour past noon. There were a few townsfolk wandering around after church but the streets were mostly deserted as people went off in search of their Sunday dinner and someplace cooler than hell. _Who’d wanna spend much time out here today anyway?_

Jon felt like he was breathing fire the air was so dry and hot. He thought of the peace and coolness of the creek unexpectedly and then and there he made a wish. He wished that if he should survive this day he would be allowed to return to the creek with Sansa to bathe in the cool water with her and perhaps make love to her beneath the shade of the trees along the shore or maybe even in the water itself amongst the queen’s wreath vines. He dismissed his dreams and wishes though when he and Bronn turned to walk down the street from Hobb’s towards Gage’s.

Jon was anticipating finding Ramsay either down at his daddy’s bank or at his home. But he was mistaken in that for they’d not walked but a few paces when they spotted him. There on the front porch of the barbershop, not forty feet away and just across the town’s only true thoroughfare, sat Ramsay with Damon Dance-For-Me, Sour Alyn and Ben Bones at his feet on the steps. _No need to waste any more time then, I reckon_.

Ramsay was sitting in a chair with his feet propped up on the railing and his hat covering his eyes. Sour Alyn saw Jon first and jumped up to Ramsay’s side. Ramsay pushed his hat back and glanced their way before he said something to Sour Alyn who promptly took off down the side street.

“I came to fight you, Bolton, but I suppose you’re still afraid to fight me alone,” Jon shouted across the way.

Ramsay got up on his feet and started fingering his Smith and Wesson on his right hip. “Well, look who came to town again today. It’s becoming an almost regular thing to see you here, Snow.” Ramsay stepped down off the porch with Ben and Damon at his heels.

He stopped a few paces after he reached the street. They were still a good thirty feet from each other. _I could take him pretty easy from here_.

There were still townsfolk around though. They’d started scurrying for cover when Jon had issued his challenge and the two groups of men had started towards one another. But some had completely lost their heads and were running this way and that. Some fool woman and her child were darting down the middle of the street between them and Jon would not shed any innocent blood.

Reverend Poole stepped out into the street and started admonishing them both to turn the other cheek and not spill no blood on the Lord’s day. He told Ramsay he’d go fetch his daddy to talk some sense into him. Jon and Ramsay both gave him a look that sent the good reverend scurrying off with the others soon enough. They were no more than fifteen feet apart now and the last of the lambs had fled when they came to a halt facing each other.

“You came to my place today and made some threats that I can’t let go unanswered,” Jon said in a low and deadly voice now.

Ramsay looked over his shoulder at Ben Bones and Damon and gave Bronn a good look. He didn’t seem to care for this situation. _Not enough company on your side yet, I’d_ _guess_.

“Well…maybe I was just a little overwrought this morning,” Ramsay said with a shrug.

“Nah, you weren’t. You meant every word and I meant every word I said to you. You wanna play for blood? Here I am. Let’s play…just say when,” Jon said flexing his hands at his sides. Just then Sour Alyn returned with Umber and Karstark on his heels. “None of y’all are ever very far from your master, are you?” Jon asked with a cocky grin that he hoped was convincing. He tapped the handle of his right-hand Colt. “So, will it be me and you, Ramsay? Or will it be me and you _after_ I get rid of them?” he nodded towards the others.

“You’re not exactly alone, Snow,” Ramsay replied with a pleasant smile. “You get bored of playing cards, limey?” he asked looking at Bronn.

“Something like that maybe,” Bronn replied casually.

“How’s that whore of yours…Ros, was it?” Ramsay asked Bronn next with a crueler look.

Jon could almost feel Bronn tensing up beside him. _Don’t_ , he wanted to say. He didn’t need to worry because Bronn was not about to be baited that easy.

“She’ll be fine,” Bronn responded. “She’s a tough one. How’s that lovely little red-headed fiancée of yours, Bolton? Oh, wait…I suppose she’s not really yours anymore, is she?”

“Don’t,” Jon said aloud this time but quietly. He wanted to make Ramsey angry enough to maybe make a mistake but he didn’t want Sansa’s name brought up. _Because then I_ _might get angry enough to make a mistake_.

Jon could feel the sweat trickling down his neck into the collar of his shirt but the tension was more oppressive than the heat now. The other five men’s eyes were darting between Jon, Bronn and Ramsay. Ramsay kept his eyes locked on Jon’s but Jon did not have that kind of leisure. He had to watch what all six opponents were doing…constantly watching their eyes to figure what they were thinking and what they were planning. He also had to wonder what Bronn might do though he couldn’t spare a glance for him. His hands were ready down by his side, ready to draw as so as someone moved or said ‘boo.’ _Be quick or be dead_. Jon silenced the voice in an instant. Now was not the time to dwell on the dead. He knew his body would respond automatically once it was time for the fighting to commence.

His eyes continued to scan each man but he didn’t make a pattern of it. The mind wants to make a pattern of things but in this situation keeping the enemy guessing would work better. And he kept his eyes moving from one man to the next as quick as lightning. He had to observe and process what he was seeing quickly. There was no time for long reflections and second guessing.

Karstark was clearly nervous, fidgety and uncertain, and his eyes kept going to Umber and Ramsay. Sour Alyn didn’t look much better though his hands were steadier but he was only holding a shotgun. _Might do him some good from this distance but once we scatter, he’ll be out of range quick. Maybe the fool thinks it’s a rifle_. Damon Dance-For-Me was excited, eager for the fight and just waiting for the word. Ben Bones though was a cool customer. He looked as comfortable as a man fixing to ask a friend over for supper. Umber looked angry more than anything but he always looked that way. And Ramsay…well, Ramsay looked excited like Damon but calm like Ben, too. A mixture of ecstasy at the thoughts of blood and unruffled assurance of the outcome. But underneath it all, he looked… _cocky_.

_You’re so sure you’re gonna win which is exactly why I think you could lose._

Of the six of them, it was Karstark and Umber that made Jon the most uneasy. Karstark was so clearly out of his depth here. Jon didn’t consider him a threat as a gunslinger. He wasn’t a gunslinger at all in truth and he’d never heard tell of him being much of a shot or that quick on the draw. He was a coward though. Jon could see it in the man’s eyes. He was terrified and men like that didn’t belong in a fight. They only managed to cause problems.

Umber, on the other hand, was rumored to be a good shot though not the quickest. But he was a huge man and supposedly a terror when he got in a rage. _If you allow him too_ _close, he could likely beat you to death with your own gun_. _Bronn might’ve had a point about bringing along a knife_. Jon had strapped it to his ankle down in his boot. He was a gunslinger but he’d killed a man with a knife alone in the past.

He kept his eyes moving. Damon looked ready to piss himself with excitement now. He was practically foaming at the mouth. He had two six-shooters but also the tomahawk he always carried on his belt. There were stories about Damon and the things he’d do with that tomahawk. Jon preferred not to think on that though. _The mad dog’s mad dog_.

He looked at Umber again and saw the man was staring at Bronn fixedly. Umber’s eyebrows shot up in sudden surprise and disbelief before they narrowed in hate. _Oh, my God_. If he’d had a dollar to bet, he would’ve bet that Bronn had just winked at the man. And that was that.

Umber let out a roar and drew and so did everyone else. There was a cacophony of gunfire and, in the next moment, everyone was diving for some cover. Everyone but Sour Alyn who was lying on the ground screaming and hollering fit to wake the dead after Jon had got him in the gut. He’d been aiming for Ramsay but Karstark had drawn and then dropped one of his guns and bumped into Alyn as he bolted for cover knocking the man between Jon and Ramsay. Bronn had clipped Karstark in the shoulder for his foolishness at least.

“What the hell’d you do?!” Jon shouted as he and Bronn took cover behind a couple of barrels on Gage’s porch.

“I might’ve winked at him,” Bronn admitted with a snicker.

“Goddammit…I knew you’d do something,” Jon said, shocked that he let out a barking laugh along with Bronn.

They nodded to one another and turned to start firing over their barrels at where Damon and Umber were behind a bench on the barber’s porch they’d turned over for shelter. Ramsay was around the side of the building, peeping out now and then to fire. The windows behind Jon and Bronn shattered and the barber’s windows had taken a few shots as well along with the barber’s pole.

“Can you see Ben Bones?” Jon asked when they ducked back down to reload.

“No,” Bronn answered. A barrage of gunfire from across the street began then and the barrels, which were apparently…and unfortunately…empty, were starting to bust up behind them. “I don’t think this’ll be much protection before long.”

“Yeah,” Jon responded. There was a large trough nearby in the street where the hitching post was. It was full of water and made of metal. _It might afford a bit more protection_. It suddenly struck Jon that it was right there at that particular hitching post that he’d met Sansa. _May it be a good sign_. “Time to move,” he grunted at Bronn.

They broke cover and fired at the men on the porch across the way. Jon was firing both guns at once as he ran, still mindful of his aim, and he heard a shriek from across the way. Sour Alyn was still moaning in the street but it wasn’t him. He saw Karstark fall to his knees from the corner of the barbershop. He wasn’t certain if he or Bronn had got him but Jon knew he finished him with a shot to the head right before he made it behind the trough, his new place to hunker down. _One more down_.

Jon caught his breath for a moment and took stock of his remaining bullets. He still had a good many but maybe not as many as he’d need if this wore on too long. _Better make_ _every one count_ , he thought as a memory invaded his mind.

_“Accuracy matters,” Mance had hissed by his side. “If you can’t hit the side of a barn, you’ll be out of bullets before you’re out of enemies. Now, try again.”_

_Jon lifted the Colt again and aimed at the empty bottle sitting on the rail thirty paces away. He was careful with his aim this time and made sure his hand was steady before he pulled the trigger. The bottle shattered to a thousand pieces and he’d turned to the old man and smiled. He should’ve known better than that._

_“Well, done. Now, so long as every foe you encounter will stand nice and still for the twenty seconds it took you to aim at that bottle, you’re all set, kid.” Jon had lowered his gun and looked sullenly at the ground. “Ah, don’t get all sulky on me now, boy. You’re already quick. Looks like you’re capable of accuracy. Now, we just gotta work on combining the two,” he finished with a hearty slap to Jon’s back._

_I’m trying_ , Mance, he thought as Bronn dove back down next to him reloading his own gun.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m sorry, Sansa,” Cella whispered. “Daddy’s not feeling so good today.”

“It’s alright, Cella.”

Sansa glanced over at Mayor Baratheon fast asleep in the parlour. She could smell the laudanum from here but she wouldn’t say anything to Cella about why her daddy wasn’t feeling so good. _He likes his liquor and, when that’s not enough, he likes something stronger_. Sansa couldn’t say she was too surprised seeing how he was always quarreling with his wife and the hateful way she looked at him.

She said good-bye to Cella and headed back outside where Tormund waited with the horses. They’d went the long way around town and found the jail sitting empty except for Deputy Archer’s boy who was watching things while his daddy, the sheriff and the other men were away at Tumblestone chasing outlaws. Then, they’d went down an alleyway to where the Baratheon’s lived.

_No luck. No luck finding Ghost, no luck talking to the sheriff or the mayor. No help you’re being at all. Might as well head back to Tormund’s at the rate, Sansa._

They had remounted to head back down the street away from town. It was then that the gunfire started. Sansa gasped and almost cried out when Tormund gave her a stern look. “Come on, girl. Let’s find a place to hide you and I’ll do what I can for him.”

She nodded and they fled down another back alleyway. He stopped the horses at the back entrance of a place. There’d been several blasts at once but now the gunfire was more sporadic, coming in quick bursts and then ceasing for a bit. Someone was hurt though she could tell from the screams she’d heard after that first round. _Please, don’t let it be_ _Jon…please_.

“In here,” Tormund said gruffly pushing her into the building.

They passed into some sort of storage room filled with barrels and kegs and a few crates and then passed into another room that was large and lit up. The gunfire was closer now. _A saloon_ , Sansa realized as she spotted the bar and tables. _I’ve never been inside a saloon before_. There was a man ducked down behind the bar cradling a shotgun and Tormund shoved her down next to him.

“What the hell’s she doing here, Tormund?” the man asked.

“I brought her here to get her out of the street. It sounds like they’re right outside.”

“They are, you fool. Get her upstairs. It’ll be safer up there.”

Sansa was felt herself being yanked up by the arm and pulled up a stairway. There were a few women peeping out of doorways. Sansa couldn’t help staring. Most of them didn’t seem to have more than their underthings on. _They’re the…prostitutes_ , she realized, not wanting to use the other word just then.

“Ros,” Tormund called. “This is Snow’s girl…Miss Stark. You look after her for me. I need to find a gun if I can.”

“I can shoot a rifle,” Sansa said softly but they didn’t pay her any mind and Tormund thundered back down the stairs.

“Come here, honey,” the woman said. She looked like she might be close to thirty but it was hard to tell. She had a black eye and some bruises were visible on her arms in the dress she was wearing that didn’t cover all that much. She pulled Sansa into a room and Sansa walked towards the window. “Are you crazy, girl? Stay down,” the woman, Ros, said.

Sansa looked out the window briefly anyway. She could see some men firing from the barber’s porch and a man lying in the street obviously bleeding from the stomach. She couldn’t quite tell who he was but it wasn’t Jon and that was all that mattered. There seemed to be gunfire coming from outside the mercantile next door. Sansa thought that was where Jon must be but it seemed like more than one man was firing from there. _Either that or he grew some extra arms between this morning and now._

A ricochet struck the building down below and Sansa flinched and darted back from the window and joined Ros in the floor beside the bed.

“I thought Jon would be alone,” she said partly to herself.

“He’s not alone. Bronn’s with him.”

“Who’s Bronn?”

“He works here. He’s…well, he’s a friend of mine…anyway, he chose to help him. He wants Ramsay dead same as Jon, I believe.”

“Why?” Sansa asked out of curiosity.

“’Cause of me,” she said indicating her black eye.

“Did Ramsay do that to you?”

She nodded and said, “The other night.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault, girl,” the woman said with a bitter laugh.

 _I hope not_ , Sansa thought.

 

* * *

 

 

Jon started to see the disadvantage of their situation as Umber disappeared around the corner and Ben Bones had not been sighted since the firing began. Damon and Ramsay were still hiding out at the barbershop and peeping out to fire every once in a while. He and Bronn were penned down here. Jon had a feeling that Ben or Umber or both were making their way to another position. Sour Alyn was still dying noisily in the street. _Gut wound…a bad way to go_ , Jon thought. Karstark was dead as a doornail nearby. _Much_ _better a shot to the head than the gut_.

“I’m thinking the other two may be circling around, trying to pen us down and catch us in the cross fire.”

“I’m afraid you might be right,” Bronn said. Bronn popped up and fired and Jon heard a cry from across the way as Bronn slumped down next to him and gave a gasp. “I hit the fuckin’ twat but he nicked me.”

Jon looked Bronn over. His right arm was bleeding below the elbow. “Ramsay?”

“Aye…got him but I’m afraid it wasn’t much more than a graze.”

Just then there was fire raining down from above, bullets were whizzing around them both. Jon looked up towards the roof of Hobb’s and saw a head pop up. _Ben Bones and not_ _a bit of cover here from him up there_. Jon started plugging away whenever Ben would show himself to fire. He was trying to fire quick but accurate. The dust was being kicked up all around and the metal trough gave an ominous clang right by Jon’s head at one point. Damon and Ramsay renewed their firing from across the street.

“We’re in the crosshairs here I…” Bronn’s statement was cut off by his blistering curse.

Jon knew he’d been hit but he couldn’t stop to check on him yet. Ben had popped up to see if he’d got a kill and that was his mistake. Perhaps Ben thought with his advantage of the high ground he was safer but Jon’s aim was deadly. He waited a split second to be sure of himself and fired. He hit him square in the chest. Ben Bones gave a shrill yell before falling off the roof of the saloon to the ground.

“How bad?” Jon asked Bronn then, reloading his Colts.

“Leg…I don’t think I can stand on this, let alone duck for cover again.”

Jon cast a glance down at Bronn’s thigh. The blood was seeping through his britches quickly, plus he was wounded in the arm.

“Bind that before you bleed to death,” Jon said. “I can’t stay here forever, we’re too exposed. But I think you’ll be staying put.”

“Yeah…I think so, too. I’ll draw their attention for a bit whenever you decide to move.”

Jon checked his guns once more and pulled them up to his chest before nodding to Bronn. _Three down, three to go_.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Show me your stance again,” Robb said, grinning at her from under his hat._

_Sansa wiped the sweat out of her eyes with her gloved hand on the April morning. It wasn’t that hot but she was sweating from the effort. She had sat her daddy’s rifle down in defeat a moment earlier and felt like kicking the rocks at her feet. Her arms were aching from trying to hold the rifle up and keep it steady with her skinny arms for the past hour and her shoulder was still smarting from the kickback of the gun when she’d not listened to the right way to hold it the first time she’d fired._

_But Robb was patient with her just like he’d always been. They’d left home on horseback that morning to ride to more wide open spaces outside of town for another lesson. Robb was almost 17 and planning to leave for New York as soon as he finished his schooling. Sansa had just turned 14 and didn’t want him to go. Bran didn’t want him to go either. But he didn’t care for Richmond anymore. He didn’t like Mr. Baelish. He didn’t like the man staying at their house indefinitely and Mama allowing it. He was going to New York to make things better for them, to help erase Daddy’s debts and ease Mama’s burdens and make Mr. Baelish’s unwelcome presence unnecessary._

_“You’ll see, Sansa. Mr. Reed says I can come work for him as soon as I graduate. He was a good friend to Daddy, a real friend…not like that Roose Bolton who double-crossed him. I’ll be making good money up there at his firm in no time and I’ll bring y’all up North to live with me,” he’d said with that sweet way he had and his blue eyes shining at her._

_But in the meantime, he intended for his little sister to know how to fire a rifle and the lessons had started a few weeks earlier. Sansa was tired and frustrated that morning but, just as he was patient with her, she never wanted to disappoint Robb and she picked up the rifle once more._

_“Now, come on. Show me what you’ve learned,” he said in that coaxing way he had. Sansa stood with her feet shoulder width apart. “Don’t lock up your legs,” he muttered under his breath. She nodded and raised the rifle and heard him start tutting. “No, Red…like this,” Robb murmured in her ear as he adjusted her elbow. “Keep it just under the gun and align those shoulders to the target. Show me where you rest the butt.” Sansa pulled it up to the ball of her shoulder, not the inside. “That’s right. You’re getting better, Sansa.” She beamed at his praise and took aim. “Remember not to drop your sight,” he whispered just before she pulled the trigger._

_**POW!** The rusted, old can sitting on the fence post went flying in the air nearly thirty yards away. _

_“I hit it, Robb! I hit it! Did you see?” she shouted in joy and surprise._

_“You sure did, Red. You’re becoming a real deadeye,” he said, giving her a hug before kissing the top of her head. “I’ll take you out to the turkey shoot in the fall and maybe you can win us that $20 prize.”_

_They’d laughed together then and headed back home. There wouldn’t be any more lessons though and Robb was dead before the next turkey shoot, killed in a train accident as he’d headed up to New York that summer._

 

Sansa sat next to Ros on the floor wondering why the memory of that morning was so strong upon her with the gunfire and shouts going on below and above as well, apparently. Then, she saw the flash of a man’s body fall past the window. Her and Ros both let out a little screech of surprise but Sansa leapt up at once and made her way cautiously over to take a look. On the ground lay one of Ramsay’s boys… _Ben Bones_. She glanced towards the street and could see Jon and another man who could only be Bronn huddled behind a water trough. Bronn was bleeding.

“Ros…” she started to call but the woman was already beside her with her hand to her throat. Just then there was an almighty bellowing from downstairs and then gunfire. _Shotgun_ , she realized. _That’s Tormund roaring but who’s he yelling at?_ “Ros, do you have a gun…a rifle?” She had to give the other woman a shake. She was frozen between staring at Bronn and listening to the sounds of trouble down below. “He’s bleeding but maybe he’ll be alright. Please…do you have a rifle?”

“What do you know about guns, girl?” Ros asked when she finally realized what Sansa was asking.

“I can shoot. My brother taught me.”

The woman shook her head at her and said, “Come with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to leave it hanging there but the other half of the gunfight still needs some finessing and this was already so long! Thanks for sticking with this story!
> 
> And in case any Bronn fans are freaking out (and you know who you are ;-)) he's going to be okay!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bloody conclusion to the gunfight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains graphic violence. 'There will be blood.'
> 
> Some action is happening simultaneously.

If Gage’s mercantile was the bottom left corner of a square made up by the intersection of High Heart’s main street and the cross street and the barbershop was catty-corner from it or the right top corner of that same square, at the bottom right corner was the former solicitor’s empty office. In a sense, one could call it a rectangle since the main street was twice as wide as the cross street but Jon never got much schooling past the age of ten so he just called it a square in his mind.

The empty office was directly across the main street from the mercantile and further up from the saloon where Jon and Bronn were still holding out behind the metal trough which was quickly losing its water from all the holes it had shot in it now.

And that empty office on the other corner was where Jon meant to move to next. There were crates stacked up out front of it where belongings had been packed to be sent on out to California where the solicitor had moved a month earlier.

_About twenty-five feet from here to there…just gotta get there in one piece. Easy, right?_

_“Moving target is harder to hit, boy,” Mance had said. I’m planning on moving as fast as I can._

“Moving target is harder to hit, mate…so move. And move fast,” Bronn said after he finished binding his leg.

“Yeah, I know,” Jon answered, smiling despite himself.

Bronn had his guns reloaded and pulled them up to show Jon he was ready. Jon nodded and broke from cover with Bronn keeping a steady fire aimed at Ramsey and Damon for him. He ran across the street, quicker than he’d run in a good long while, towards those crates that would provide him some better protection while also bringing him closer to them. _And closer to the kill_.

Just as he reached the other side of the street he could hear gunfire and shouts coming from inside Hobb’s. _Umber,_ Jon realized. _He’s come through the saloon_. He hoped Hobb would be alright. He hoped Hobb could take care of Umber for him in truth but right now he had to keep his mind on the two foes still out here with him.

He could no longer see Bronn from here but occasionally he’d rise up enough to start shooting again. Jon knew he was probably running low on bullets at this point and, combined with loss of blood from his wounds, he likely would be laying low more now. Damon was firing ever so often but he’d not seen Ramsay in a bit. _Bronn said he grazed_ _him. Maybe it was more than a graze_.

Jon was firing at Damon, hoping for a lucky shot to take one more obstacle out of the way when… **CLICK, CLICK, CLICK…**

 _Out already, dammit_. He looked down to reload and heard Bronn start firing. The noises in the saloon had intensified and he heard what sounded like several shots firing at once…from different kinds of guns. _Stop worrying over Hobb and reload_.

But sweat was running into his eyes now, stinging them, and he hastily wiped at his face with his gloved hands. He reached into his pouch for more bullets to load and they slipped through his fingers like they were covered in grease. His hands started to shake. _Steady now. Focus on your guns_.

_“Don’t focus on nothing but the task at hand,” Mance had taught him. “Load, aim, fire…say it to yourself like a prayer or invocation…a ritual or rite. That’s how the army drilled us to be when we were in the thick of a fight with no end in sight. Fights are usually over before our mind has time to start thinking too much. But when they’re not…you gotta focus on the only thing you can right then. Load, aim, fire…focus on the task at hand.”_

The gun fight had probably been going on for less than twenty minutes but there was only so much tension a body could stand before it started reacting. And there’s only so much fretting the mind would take before it tried running to other ideas. Most fights Jon had been in had lasted less than five minutes and this was a test of endurance that he felt he was failing.

His hands were sweaty inside his gloves and he pulled them off and tossed them down to wipe his hands on his vest. And still his mind kept trying to divert him from his task, intent on calling forth an image of her soft hands in his callused ones this morning as she looked down at him lovingly while they were in his bed.

 _Stop. You can’t think on that…any of that. Don’t think about nothing but the kill. The why and what if don’t matter right now_. Something deep inside of him knew to not even _think_ her name just now because if he did, he’d be lost. _Just concentrate on the kill._

He’d just got his guns reloaded when Damon let out an ear-piercing wail. Jon figured Bronn might have hit him but, just as Jon peeked around the crate to check things, he saw the flash of steel barreling towards his face. He jerked back just enough and just in time to avoid the tomahawk being buried in his forehead but he’d not escaped unscathed. He was seeing red, literally now, as the blood was pouring from his forehead and brow above his right eye where Damon had got him.

Damon was off balance for just an instant where he’d swung at Jon and missed but he was already drawing his gun to fire when Jon heard a bone-chilling snarl and a flash of white came between them.

 

* * *

 

 

Sansa and Ros peeked down below from the head of the stairs. The saloon was a wreck. Tables and chairs were flung all around and some were broken. There was shattered glass all over the bar and behind it and the smell of liquor and gunpowder was strong. Hobb was leaning across the bar, apparently wounded and clutching his shotgun, trying to reload as Tormund and Umber were apparently intent on tearing each other apart limb from limb. They were bellowing and cursing at each other as they slung each other from one end of the large room to the other. It almost looked like they were engaged in some sort of dance. _Not a very graceful dance though_.

Sansa had seen men exchange punches a time or two. Her mama had tried to shelter her some but she’d seen boys fighting on the streets of Richmond as a girl. And Daddy had taken her and Robb to a boxing match once when she was nine and there was a fair in town. He’d bought them peanuts and told her not to tell Mama. She’d started to cry when one man’s nose had been bloodied in the match so Daddy had bought her a little bag of lemon drops to share with Robb for a nickel after that. Robb had only taken one and told her she could have the rest.

Mr. Baelish kept some curious company, too. Some of the men he associated with would come to their door battered and bruised with money to hand over to Mr. Baelish. Sansa wondered if the people that brought the money were less battered and bruised than the folks from who the money had been taken.

But she had never seen men fight this way. Tormund was roaring like a bear and Umber was a raging bull. The two large men were currently locked in what looked like an embrace. _But a deadly embrace_. Tormund was bleeding from his left arm and Umber from his right and Sansa wondered if the barman’s buckshot was the cause. She had realized he must be Hobb, the man Jon had told her about that day coming back from the creek, the one he said could get a message to him if she ever needed him.

 _Well, Hobb…don’t kill, Tormund_ , she thought as Hobb was reloading. The barman was bleeding from his shoulder and Sansa saw a pistol on the ground in front of the bar. She didn’t want no pistol though. Ros had found her just what she wanted.

 _“It’s Bronn’s,” she’d said as she pulled the Winchester out from his trunk_.

Sansa had taken it and checked it over the way Robb had taught her. It’d been a long time since she’d done this part and she hoped she didn’t forget any of the steps.

The two women stood there as still as molasses in wintertime, frozen in place and watching the violence below like it was something not quite real. Hobb had his Remington back up but it was clear he was worried about hitting Tormund now. Umber had just head butted Tormund and was reaching for the other gun still in his belt when Tormund grabbed him by his hair and leaned in, almost like he meant to give him a kiss…but it wasn’t a kiss. There was a frightful scream from Umber as Tormund pulled back with part of Umber’s cheek between his teeth. The whole right side of Umber’s face was soon covered in blood and he reared back from Tormund giving space between the two men at last. Umber pulled his pistol up to shoot with his left hand as his right was clutching at his face. _Best chance you might get_ , she thought as she raised the rifle.

 _“Remember not to drop your sight,”_ a ghost whispered in her ear.

 **BANG!** went the pistol in Umber’s hand and **POW!** went the rifle. Sansa jumped at the recoil. It’d been a long while since she’d fired a gun.

 **BOOM!** The shotgun blast immediately after brought a gasp from her lips and a scream from Ros.

There wasn’t anything recognizably human left to Umber’s face as he fell to the floor and Sansa knew she’d not done that. She’d been aiming for his back. She thought she might have hit him but the shotgun definitely did the most damage.

She felt her stomach give a lurch. She’d not eaten since her breakfast with Jon that morning and the strong liquor she’d had at Tormund’s had set her belly on fire.

 _Don’t think on it_ , she told herself. _Don’t look too close. That’s not what matters right now_.

Tormund was injured and the barman was, too. She would have to see to them. And Jon was still outside fighting. At least, she hoped he was still out there fighting and not as dead as the man on the floor of the saloon.

 

* * *

 

 

 _“Every second seems the length of a day,”_ Bronn had said about fighting earlier. _Poet or not, there’s truth in that_.

But what had possessed the fool to come after him swinging his tomahawk? To break cover and run straight at him with two men likely to be shooting at him? _The mad dog’s_ _mad dog. Why does he do anything he does?_ Jon couldn’t say what made a man like Damon do the things he did but at the moment he couldn’t ponder the question either.

Ghost had come out of nowhere and was biting down on Damon’s arm. Damon was screaming and yelping as Ghost growled and savaged him. _I lost my hat. I’m so tired. You’re_ _supposed to focus, Jon_.

His guns were just out of his reach where he’d dropped them. He was still dazed with the hit to the head. He felt fuzzy and a bit confused. _Ghost, where’d you come from? I left_ _you with her._

But when Ghost went for Damon’s legs next, Jon saw him reaching for his gun. He knew then he’d have to move fast despite his aching head, the confusion and the blood in his eyes. _You are not killing my wolf_ , Jon thought as he grasped the knife from its place in his boot.

Instinct is everything at such times and Jon’s did not fail him. He pulled the knife and leapt on Damon, tumbling on top of him. Damon got his shot off but it didn’t hit anything as Jon stabbed him ferociously and repeatedly with the knife. His rage was uncontrollable. It had been bubbling just beneath the surface inside him since the meeting with Ramsay that morning…longer than that in all honesty.

Jon reared back onto his knees and screamed at the sky in his bloodlust. But the sun and the sky that was as blue as her eyes didn’t seem to care. As his wrath receded, he looked down at the dead man whose chest he was still straddling and went to wipe his eyes. There was blood all over his hands and he knew he must look a fright. _I cannot touch_ _something so fine as her with these hands…these are the hands of a killer_.

He started to stand and a shot rang out and Ghost yelped in fear…and Jon nearly crumpled back to the ground with the pain. But he would not fall now…not when the man he wanted dead with all his heart and soul had finally shown himself again. _Just your leg…don’t pay it no mind it now. Focus_.

Ramsay had come around the other side of the empty building while Damon was busy making his hare-brained attack and dying. Jon didn’t know if Bronn was alive or dead or asleep until Bronn fired from the trough at him momentarily diverting Ramsay’s attention. He hit Ramsay in the shoulder and Ramsay screamed in fury at his wound. Ramsay fired at Bronn and then turned his gun on Jon again.

“I’m going to kill you, bastard!” he shouted. “And she will _pray_ for death before I'm finished with her!”

He was less than twenty feet away. Jon was unarmed. But Ramsay was not a deadeye with a pistol it would seem…at least not when wounded. Three shots passed right by him leaving Jon untouched and Jon dove for one of the guns he’d dropped when he’d been hit by Damon’s tomahawk.

“Seems you missed,” Jon taunted if only to hear Ramsay’s yell of frustration then.

Five more shots rang out before another one hit Jon in the shoulder. That pain could not be minded right now. It did not matter one bit for his Colt was finally back in his hands. Jon turned and fired at Ramsay hitting him in the gut. _Gut wound…bad way to go. That’d be about perfect for you_.

Ramsay’s face was contorted with wrath and anguish now. They both fired at once and Jon felt a graze near his hip…like a bee sting. He started to stumble but caught himself and Ramsay was already trying to fire again.

 **CLICK, CLICK, CLICK** …

If he lived to be 101, Jon was sure he’d never forget the look on Ramsay’s face when he realized he was out of bullets. It was about the funniest damn thing that Jon had ever seen in his life. _Perhaps it shouldn’t be so funny._ But he was well past worrying over what was right and wrong in this case.

He stood unsteadily, bleeding from his brow, leg, shoulder and hip, but he had a couple of rounds left in the Colt and Ramsay was empty.

“I don’t think you’ll be killing me,” Jon said gruffly as he raised his weapon.

Ramsay raised his hands and gave a bitter laugh. “You suggested facing each other one on one to begin with. I suppose it’s too late to say I’ve reconsidered,” he said with a wheeze as he clutched his gut.

“Yep. It’s a bit too late for that,” Jon said before he pulled the trigger and shot Ramsay right between the eyes.

He watched him drop to the ground without any particular emotion…not until he heard her cry out.

He couldn’t quite believe his eyes. Standing at the entrance of the saloon next to Tormund, there stood the lovely girl with fiery red hair, ivory skin like cream and the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Tormund was bleeding and leaning on her heavily and she was holding a stick or something for support. He couldn’t see all too well but it was her. He could not say her name.  It would be blasphemy for a wretch like him to speak it. She wasn’t quite real to him right now.

He did not deserve a pretty girl like her. He was a hard man, a killer, a savage, an animal…just like his wolf. He was all those names and things the townsfolk said about him and he was nowhere near good enough for her.

“Stay away from me! I’m not any good for you!” he screamed at her. “You’re free of him now! But you deserve better than me!”

“Jon!” he heard her shout as he turned away.

He felt the tears forming and he welcomed them. They would wash away the blood in his eyes. He wanted to feel clean again…clean enough to deserve her but he couldn’t see how that was possible. _I’d need an ocean to wash me clean again_.

He staggered away from her and towards Sour Alyn still lying in the street and moaning from the shot Jon had put in his gut nearly thirty minutes earlier…a lifetime ago. He was one of Ramsay’s dogs but Ramsay hadn’t suffered near as long as this man had. A loyal dog didn’t need to keep suffering needlessly.

“Mercy,” the man begged, looking up at him imploringly with frightened and fevered eyes.

“Mercy,” Jon answered before he shot him in the head and dropped the empty Colt to the ground.

Jon bowed his head to say a prayer for the beautiful girl… _Sansa…her name is Sansa_.

When he heard the gun being cocked, he turned to see Roose Bolton standing there staring at him. Reverend Poole was behind him flapping his arms like a hen and squawking for Roose to put away his gun and let the sheriff deal with the murdering outlaw. _I guess that’s me_.

“I would almost thank you for killing such a disgrace to my name…except that he _was_ my son,” Roose Bolton said in that same soft and sinister tone that his son had had.

He lifted his arm and aimed the pistol. Jon had no weapon to defend himself now and he raised his arms out to the side to accept that Death would be coming to claim him today after all.

He heard the report and thought it sounded off for a pistol. He didn’t wait for the impact but just went ahead and fell to his knees in expectation. Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl but no bullet struck him. Instead, he watched in fascination as Roose Bolton’s neck exploded in a shower of red, a shower of blood. The man’s pale eyes went wide and he dropped his pistol and grasped at the ruin of what was once his throat. He looked behind Jon and Jon turned his head and followed his gaze. There in the street more than a dozen yards away from them stood Sansa with a rifle in her arms. She lowered it as he fell to the ground, blood still spraying from his lips with his final breaths.

 

* * *

 

 

Sansa dropped the rifle to her side and rushed to him as he collapsed. “Don’t move,” she said urgently, looking at the gash over his eye. “Go get the doctor!” she shouted to anyone who would hear her. _Who’s gonna go? Tormund and Hobb are wounded and Ros is taking care of her man_. Thankfully, one of the other women from Hobb’s came out and took off running down the street and Sansa turned her attention back to Jon. She was surprised to find him smiling up at her, knowing how bad he must be hurting.

“I told you to stay at Tormund’s. I told you to stay away from me. You don’t listen so well,” he said in a dreamy kind of voice as he reached up to touch her face.

“Yeah…lucky for you,” she said impatiently as she checked the rest of his wounds.

“Sansa…I’m not good enough…”

“Don’t you talk anymore nonsense, Jon Snow. I told you earlier you’re stuck with me. And you are good enough and I won’t take any backtalk on the matter.” Her fingers felt like they were made of butter as she tried to pull back his vest and unbutton his shirt to check his shoulder. He winced and it went straight to her heart. “Where is that blasted doctor?!” she shouted again.

“You hurt?” he asked with such sweet concern when he saw the blood on her dress.

“No…that’s from Tormund. He’s alright,” she said next when Jon looked worried. “Hobb and him were wounded but not bad.”

“Where’s Ghost?” he asked next.

“He’s right here,” she said giving him smile. “Ghost, come on over here.”

The wolf walked over and Jon smiled again. “I see your red eyes on me, boy,” he said quietly as he patted his friend. Then, he grasped her hand. “Sansa…I love you,” he said. “I’m not doing so well right now but I wanted to say I didn’t mean what I said a little while ago. I want to be with you and…”

“I know that,” she grinned. “Now, shut up and be still until the doctor comes.”

He chuckled at that and said, “My girl and her sassy mouth.”

“Your girl wants you all healed up,” she replied leaning over to give him a kiss.

“I’m bloody and dirty. You shouldn’t be kissing me,” he said jerking his head away.

“I’ll kiss you if I want. And anyways I’m…Jon, I killed him,” she said then as the truth of it hit her. “I killed that man.”

He squeezed her small, dainty hand that had just taken a man’s life. “You did. I’d be dead if you didn’t but I’m sorry you had to do that.”

“He would’ve killed you. And I couldn’t have stood to lose you. And he deserved it. He cheated my daddy all those years ago. He…” she couldn’t finish her sentence and started to tear up. Jon moved his hand from hers and stroked her cheek now. “I ain’t gonna cry over him!” she shouted as the tears spilled down her cheeks regardless.

“It’s alright, sweet girl. You ain’t gonna cry for him but you can cry over taking a life. Killing shouldn’t ever be something that’s easy to do.”

She nodded at him and knew that he understood.

He was starting to close his eyes and she saw Doc Luwin hurrying towards them with his bag. Bronn would need tending, too, as well as Hobb and Tormund. So, Sansa laid her head on his chest to listen to his heart beating strong and sure. She told him she loved him and that the doctor was coming but he could rest for a bit and she’d stay right here by his side…and Ghost would, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Ramsay's dead! Let's get back to some Jonsa love and sexy times! I've got about two more chapters planned to wrap up the loose ends and give them their happy ending. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon's healing and anxious to get Sansa back in the saddle. Visitors come to call.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Sansa said as she walked Dr. Luwin back to the door.

“You’re welcome, Miss Stark, and thank you for the coffee.” Doc Luwin put his hat back on and went to get in his gig. He called out to her once more before he set his nag to moving. “The fever’s broke and we got all the lead out at least. I reckon he’ll be just fine. Just don’t let him overdo for a while.”

“I won’t,” she promised. Sansa sighed as she closed the door to his house… _our house_. Nearly ten days had passed since the gunfight and Jon was healing, along with Bronn, Tormund and Hobb. But of the four men, Sansa said Jon might be more stubborn than the other three all rolled up together. Jon argued he would’ve put his money on Tormund but Sansa thought she’d probably win that bet. “You hear him?” she called.

“I heard him,” he answered grumpily from the bed. _Broody and ill-tempered as a hornet and always trying to get out of bed when I’m not looking_. “You comin’ back in here now?” he called in a sweeter tone… _a sweeter tone that’s full of mischief_.

Sansa grinned like a cat in cream. _Well, I know one or two ways to keep you in that bed but I suppose that’d be overdoing_. “You know I am,” she answered as she put away the mug from Doc Luwin’s coffee.

She walked back into the bedroom and looked at him lying there. The day was hot. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and was just in his skivvies. He had the sheet pulled up to his chest but Sansa knew exactly what he looked like underneath it. _Temptation in the flesh if ever there was such a thing_. He was sweating but only from the heat now instead of the fever from the past several days.

“You wanna take that back off?” he asked with a sly grin.

He was pointing to her light green calico dress she’d brought to his house when she’d went with Ros the other day to fetch her things from the Bolton’s empty house. Mrs. Mordane had moved to the hotel and was planning to return East soon. But she’d seen Sansa and followed them to the house. She tried talking to Sansa. _“I’m trying to make you_ _see some sense, girl.”_

But the things she said only managed to make Sansa angry when Jon was still feverish and hurting bad and she just wanted to get her things and get out of that house that she had never wanted to set foot in again.

_“You’re a fool, girl. Wasting beauty like yours on some no good, white trash like him. You didn’t have to marry Mr. Bolton if you didn’t want to…but to give your innocence to a murderous mercenary, a hard drinking, swearing, whoring, heartless piece of…”_

_“That’s enough from you, Mrs. Mordane. I know you think you know everything but you don’t know him. There ain’t no men better than him in my book and I won’t listen to one more unkind word about him.”_

At least that had shut the old biddy up. Ros was sniggering behind her hand the rest of the time they packed Sansa’s things.

Sansa stood there watching Jon lying on the bed and grinning at her so sweet. _You don’t know him at all, Mrs. Mordane_.

“How am I supposed to keep you from over doing when you’re asking for me to take my dress off all the time? I made this dress myself. Don’t you like it?” she asked even though she was doing what he wanted.

Jon didn’t say nothing at first. The smile that broke across his face said it all as he lay there watching her undress. “Oh, I like it. It’s…uh, it’s real pretty but I’d rather see it lying on the bureau right now. It’s awful hot today, too,” he said and his cheeks were a bit flushed. Sansa arched a brow at him before she pulled it the rest of the way off and laid it where he said. “Come here,” he beckoned when she was down to her bloomers and chemise.

Sansa stretched out on her side next to him on the bed. He pulled her up close with his good arm and stroked her cheek with the hurt one before he started kissing her cheek and jaw softly. Soon, he was kissing her mouth and his hand had made its way down to cup a breast, teasing her nipple through the soft cotton of her chemise into a hard peak. She let out a breathy little moan when she felt his tongue tasting her and those full, firm lips molding her own with a familiar urgency. She whispered his name and he started to roll her to her back.

“No, Jon,” she said firmly with her hand on his chest to push him back. “I’m gonna lay here next to you…and maybe let you kiss on me some more but I heard him talking to you when I was in the other room. He said you couldn’t be doing that yet.”

“But…we already done it this morning though,” he said with what Sansa could only describe as a pitiful pout. _Like a boy being told he couldn’t have any more candy_.

“Well, that was this morning…before the doctor came and said not to,” she answered. _Oh, that’s a sulk now if ever I saw one_.

“But we’re here and you’re like this and…a man’s only got so much restraint, Sansa,” he said teasingly, slowly moving his hand up and down her back now as she lay cradled against his uninjured shoulder. “Besides, Doc Luwin’s getting on up in years. Maybe I’m the best judge of what I’m up to at present.

Sansa rolled her eyes at him. “I thought you liked my company whatever we’re doing. I guess I didn’t realize that sex was all that interested you,” she said huffily while trying to keep a straight face. They both knew what game they were playing but she had to make her bit convincing. She made to get up and he grasped her hand.

“Oh now, darling…you know it ain’t like that. Sansa…please, I’m sorry. Nothing makes me happier than just getting to hold you close.”

“Well…alright then,” she said as though it pained her to lie back down. She waited for him to pull her up close again and then she laid her head on his chest and listened to his heart beating, so grateful that he was here with her and healing. He started moving his hand up and down her back again, though occasionally that hand would dip a little lower on her back, then a little lower. “I know what you’re up to, Jon Snow,” she said grinning despite herself.

“What would I be up to, Miss Sansa?” he asked grinning right back at her.

“You think you’re going to get me to give in, don’t you?” _‘Cause I want to give in and you know I do_.

“Would that be so bad? I missed holding you close like this for so many days. And, I was so desperate for you this morning…well, it was over in a jiffy,” he said with a bit of a blush. “I’ll bet I wouldn’t even work up much of a sweat if you’d get on top of me,” he said next… _just like a wolf_.

“I’ve been sleeping next to you every night and you’re already sweating,” she argued half-heartedly. He started that pouting again and Sansa decided she’d had enough of this game for now. “Oh, quit that! Next thing I know you’ll be trying to work up a tear or two to get your way.”

He grinned and said, “You’d know I stole ‘em off a crocodile if I did.”

“Yes, I would. Now, lay still for me, Jon Snow. I wanna try something that’ll keep you in bed. Doc Luwin might object but I ain’t gonna discuss it with him and it shouldn’t have you overdoing too much.”

She slid down the bed until she was right above his groin. She started to undo his skivvies. His eyes got wide and his breath caught in his throat. Sansa slithered farther down the bed to the bandage a few inches above his knee. She gave it a soft kiss… _not hot anymore, thank God_ …before she started leaving a trail of kisses up his thigh. She ran her hand into his skivvies pulling his cock free. He was already more than half-hard.

“Sansa…” he groaned when her lips kissed the head of him.

“Shhh. Lay still now, I said.”

She took him into her mouth and experimented with the feel of him all hard and hot there. He tasted of sweat and salt but she didn’t mind that none. The sugar was in the pantry if she wanted sweet. Her man was sweet, too, just a different kind of sweet than that.

There was too much to take into her mouth at once and she ran a hand up to grasp the lower half of his length. She nuzzled at the hair around his manhood with her nose and he was wiggling a bit.

“Ticklish?” she asked.

“A bit,” he confessed. His eyes looked darker than normal and she could see the desire plain as day in them. She returned to his cock giving him gentle kisses at first but then she started licking at him sort of like what he would do between her legs and she liked the way he moaned and bit his lip then. His hand came down to softly touch her hair. “You’re so beautiful, sweet girl.”

He was looking at her intently when she glanced up from beneath her lashes at him and his forehead was slick with sweat. His curls were hanging loose around his face.

“So are you,” she murmured against his flesh before she returned to what she was doing.  She began to suck at his cock the way he would at her nub though there was a lot more involved in trying to suck him in.

“ _Uhnnn_ …Sansa…I can’t…it’s so…” he gasped at last.

She silenced him with a glance and went back to work letting his sounds tell her what to do next. She was bobbing her head up and down on him when he grasped her waist and pulled her on top.

“Jon!” she exclaimed. “You’re supposed to lay there and I was gonna keep…”

“Shhh. My girl’s going to ride me now. I wanna come inside you. I’ll be laying still…more or less.” Sansa felt his fingers slide inside the opening in her bloomers. He stroked her slit gently and looked back up at her with those velvety dark eyes of his. “This alright?” She couldn’t do more than nod feebly. “You’re so wet for me, Sansa. I love that you're wet for me and only me.” She started to unlace her bloomers and he stilled her hands and shook his head. “Nah…leave ‘em on for me. I like seeing all of you but this is good, too.”

He pulled her up closer with his hands at her waist and positioned her over his cock that was hard and straining and still damp from her mouth. He reached down to spread the fabric a little further apart so she could take him in. She sank down finally bringing a groan from them both.

“Ohh…Jon,” she sighed leaning down to nuzzle his neck and cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, my darling girl. I love you so dear,” he said, turning her head so he could kiss her mouth.

She started rocking her hips while their mouths stayed busy on each other. He was soon thrusting his cock into her while his tongue was thrusting into her mouth. He reached a hand down between him to deftly rub her nub and Sansa felt herself spiraling away to that carefree feeling she was seeking. She shuddered as she came and he grasped her hips and pumped into her a bit harder to make his own way there.

Their cries and moans were filling the little bedroom and the bed itself was creaking loudly with their movement. He was close and Sansa was close to another when they both distinctly heard horses and a wagon.

“Jon,” she said anxiously.

His eyes were wide and he stopped moving at once. They lay there locked together, panting and staring at each other, trying to figure out who was coming to his place. It had to be done but he still made a piteous sound when she moved off him. He ran a hand over his face before he rose and pulled his britches on.

“You stay right here,” she admonished. “You ain’t supposed to get up. I’ve got your rifle and…”

He put a finger to her lips and gave her a look that meant he wasn’t hearing any arguments. He fetched his guns from the bureau as Sansa pulled her dress back over her head.

“Two visits in a single morning. I don’t regularly have two visitors in a single month. Just so you know, darling…I may have to kill whoever decided to call on us at such a time,” he said with a laugh now.

“Jon…you’ll do no such thing. Now, let’s go get rid of whoever it is so we can get you back to lying down and get on with…other things,” she finished with a grin.

He reached for his new shirt she’d made him while sitting by his side during the fever and grimaced as he started to pull it on. She stepped up to help him ease it over his hurt shoulder. She nudged his fingers out of the way and fastened the buttons next. She looked up and saw him looking at her with such love and affection that Sansa felt dizzy… _almost as dizzy as his kisses make me_.

“I love you. I never dreamed I’d have someone so sweet and pure and kind as you in my life,” he said in a raspy kind of voice as she knelt to help him ease his boots on.

“I love you, too. Now, let’s see who’s calling on us,” she said.

He nodded and pulled on his hat and she followed him out the door into the bright sunshine.

Sansa was concerned to see Sheriff Dondarrion. They’d held their little inquiry when the sheriff and his men had returned to town the day after the shootout having failed to capture the Hound’s gang once more. Jon had been nearly senseless from his injuries by then as had Bronn. But Sansa, Tormund, Ros and Hobb had all had their say. Reverend Poole had had a few words to say as well. None of them were very supportive of Jon but when pressed he admitted that Roose Bolton had drawn on Jon when he was unarmed.

The sheriff was driving a small wagon and Sansa couldn’t hide her shock when she realized Mrs. Mordane was with him. _What in tarnation is she doing here? She been busy_ _telling them her stories about Jon and trying to cause more trouble?_

After their inquiry, the sheriff had said things would be referred to the circuit judge who wasn’t expected back in High Heart for a few more weeks but he’d told Sansa he thought Jon would be clear of any charges. Sansa had put faith in Dondarrion’s words. She hoped she hadn’t been mistaken in doing so.

Sansa stepped up next to Jon and took his hand. Maybe he wanted her to stay back, to stay in the house but, like he’d said before, she didn’t always listen so well. _And he’s still_ _hurting and might be glad of a little support_. Ghost came from around the side of the house and sat down next to Sansa. She patted his head with her free hand.

“Good boy, Ghost,” she said. _You watch over us both, I believe_.

Dondarrion climbed down from the wagon and walked around to assist Mrs. Mordane in getting down. She didn’t seem too pleased to be there but she was clutching something in her hand.

“Good day, Miss Stark. My, you look pretty in that dress. Snow…you’re looking a sight better than last time I laid eyes on you.”

“Hello, Sheriff,” Jon said noncommittally. Sansa only nodded.

“Mrs. Mordane here has something for you, Miss Stark. She wanted to bring it out but didn’t wish to come alone.”

“Good day, ma’am,” Jon said civilly, tipping his hat at her.

She ignored him and that riled Sansa something fierce. _You call him no good, white trash and you don’t even have the courtesy to acknowledge him when he speaks to you_.

“I brought this for you, girl,” she said handing over a telegraph.

“You’re on Mr. Snow’s property, Mrs. Mordane. It’s hardly manners to ignore your host when he welcomes you,” Sansa said primly before taking the paper.

She saw Jon look down at the ground and he was grinning to himself as Mrs. Mordane gave a sniff and finally a very curt, “Good day, Mr. Snow.”

Dondarrion was chuckling to himself before he said, “Judge Mormont will be back in town in early September, I hear. I’ll speak to him about your little matter first thing. I don’t think you’ll have much to worry over though.”

Jon thanked him as Sansa held the telegraph up trying to decipher what exactly she was reading.

 

DEAR SANSA (STOP) DO NOT DO ANYTHING FOOLISH (STOP) WE ARE COMING TO YOU (STOP) I WANT YOU TO COME HOME (STOP)

CATELYN STARK

 

“What in Heaven’s name is this?” Sansa asked. “‘Don’t do anything foolish’ she says. Like marry Ramsey?”

“I sent your mama a telegraph the other day when you wouldn’t listen to me and that was the response she sent for you this morning,” Mrs. Mordane said with a satisfied little nod. “I told her you’d took up with…this man,” she said give Jon a disdainful look, “and that he’d killed Mr. Ramsey. I didn’t wish to grieve your mama further by telling her that you’d killed Mr. Roose so I just mentioned that he had died, too.”

“You sent Mama a telegraph?” Sansa asked incredulously.

“Well, you should’ve done it but I figured you were probably too ashamed of yourself and rightfully so.”

“How dare you?! I was gonna write her a letter and explain everything and you send her some telegraph?” Sansa felt her temper getting the best of her. Her breath was getting short and if she were Ghost she might’ve taken a hunk out of Mrs. Mordane’s leg for the sport of it just then. As it was though, she only shouted, “Get off our land, you meddlesome old bitch!”

“Sansa…” Jon started to say, “Your mama needed to know anyway.”

“It was my place to tell her and explain what all happened! She’s my mama, not hers!” she shouted at Jon. Jon closed his mouth and took to studying the ground then and the sheriff did, too. So, Sansa turned her attention back on the older woman, “I can just about guess how you worded that telegraph, the nasty things you probably said about him. It’s a good thing you did bring the sheriff with you! You ain’t in any danger from him but you might be from me! Get out of my sight!”

Mrs. Mordane gave her a scathing look before heading back to the wagon. The sheriff looked about ready to bust a gut which would’ve only incensed her further at this point. Instead, he tipped his hat to her and shook Jon’s hand before he left without another word.

Jon stood there looking at her but Sansa was furious right now, so furious she couldn’t see straight. She was going to write, write it all out in a letter to explain everything but Jon had been hurt and she’d been too busy taking care of him and other more pressing matters.

_Well, maybe that’s not the God’s honest truth_. She hadn’t known what to write exactly.

 

_‘Dear Mama,_

_I’m not going to marry Ramsey. He was awful and I fell in love with a gunslinger out here. I’ve made love to him out of wedlock…lots of times. And when Ramsey found out about it he threatened to kill Jon and hurt me. So, Jon (that would be my lover) killed Ramsey so we can be together. Oh, and I killed Mr. Roose because he was going to kill Jon. Hope everything works out alright for you and Bran though.’_

 

She had been busy caring for Jon, worrying over him and seeing the sheriff and checking in on the other folks that’d been hurt but she could’ve wrote by now. She could’ve sent a telegraph but how do you put that into words that’ll be sent across wires a couple a thousand miles back East?

_‘We are coming to you.’_ She could just about figure who would be included in that ‘we’ and she never wanted to see him again. _If he comes out here trying to make trouble_ , _trying to weasel his way back into my life, trying to have a say about what I do with my life, I may have to kill another man_.

But her stomach was twisting in knots now. She knew how he’d always managed to get under her skin with his words and made her doubt things in the past. He had a knack for getting her to do exactly what he wanted. _That was in the past. You don’t trust him and you won’t be dealing with him alone again_.

Still the nerves and anger were all there and as soon as Jon opened his mouth to try and say something, she shouted “I can’t talk rational about this right now!” She walked to the house and jerked open the door. She looked back and saw him standing where she’d left him, looking down at Ghost with a worried expression. “And Jon…get yourself back in this house and back in that bed! You’re supposed to be laying down and I wasn’t finished with you yet!”

Despite how angry she was with Mrs. Mordane and nervous at the thoughts of Mama and Mr. Baelish coming out here, she started to laugh when he jumped and scurried towards to her with a wolfish grin on his face now and his wounded leg only making him limp a little.

 

* * *

 

 

The afternoon train let out a final whistle as the steam whooshed out the smokestack and it finally rumbled and screeched to a halt. High Heart wasn’t big enough to get a train ever day but a couple of times a week an Iron Horse would ride into town. It was usually the talk in town when it came.

Sansa’s family was on that train along with Tywin Lannister, the father-in-law of Mayor Baratheon, who would be taking the bank into his hands for the time being, folks said. _Yeah, I reckon he’s not going anywhere anytime soon_. Not that it mattered to Jon all that much. It wasn’t like he kept his money at the bank anyhow and Miss Baratheon had told Sansa her granddaddy was good with money.

Jon glanced over at Sansa standing next to him in her cream-colored dress with the maroon stripes, her Sunday best. He shifted awkwardly in his new shirt with his old vest and his patched-up britches. Sansa was working on a new pair for him but ever since he’d continued improving at ‘lying down,’ he’d kept her as busy as he could in their bed.

She was nervous today, more nervous than he’d seen her since Ramsey last drew breath. And he knew she was worrying over what her mama would have to say about the things she’d done and taking up with him.

And he knew the other person who was likely coming here was making her nervous, too. _You don’t have to worry about that one bit, sweet girl_.

She had on her pretty gold and pearl earrings and her hair was up in an elegant bun and tucked in under a bonnet with maroon ribbons that matched her dress. She was wearing her cream-colored gloves, too. _A perfect little lady. She looks just like some rich man’s wife or daughter…but she’s all mine_.

She was beautiful in her fancy dress and hat. No argument there. But Jon thought she’d looked even more beautiful this morning as she lay naked on their bed, glistening with sweat from their loving and her hair all a mess. She’d been keening and screaming out his name while he made a breakfast of her sweet cunt, begging him to stop and then telling him to _never_ stop.

But then Ghost had started putting up a racket, trying to break down the door to the house.

“Reckon he thinks I’m hurting you?” he’d asked as lifted his face from her hips that’d been bucking shamelessly against his mouth.

“Maybe. Shush all that now, Ghost! I’m doing just fine in here,” she’d hollered. “And, I didn’t tell you to stop,” she’d said to him next with that devilish grin of hers. Jon had laughed so hard at that he’d nearly cried.

His leg was much better though he still was a little stiff on it at times. The graze to his hip was nothing and already no more than a small scar. The cut to the forehead from the tomahawk was almost healed up though it’d left a larger scar above his eyebrow. It still stung a bit when sweat ran into it. The shoulder had been the most concerning, at least to Jon. The Doc had been worried about infection from his leg and shoulder equally but Jon was more worried about losing strength in his shoulder and arm.

But fortune had smiled on him that day in town and apparently had decided to stick around a bit longer cause his shoulder was healing up well now. He’d already been practicing with his guns again when Sansa had to go to town for this or that. _Can’t be much of a gunslinger if I can’t draw_. But, he’d need to find some sort of regular occupation again if he was to take care of her and maybe her family, too.

Ghost was sitting beside them both on the platform and looked up with those expectant red eyes. He always seemed in tune with Jon’s moods. _Yeah, I’m nervous, boy._ Jon took off his hat for a minute to wipe the sweat off his brow and put his hat back in place. His heart was giving a flutter and he figured hers was, too, though in a different way. He was nervous to meet her mama. Despite some lingering resentment over her sending Sansa out here to marry Ramsey, Jon was willing to let that go and accept Sansa’s mother and brother as family. _At least once I manage to marry her_.

That’d been another bone of contention between them lately. Sansa refused to let Reverend Poole marry them and Jon wasn’t entirely sure the man would’ve done the deed for them even if she’d been willing to let him do it…which she wasn’t. _So blame stubborn_. There was a Catholic priest in town but they weren’t Catholics and Jon reckoned a trip to Tumblestone would be in order so he could finally marry the woman he loved. _Hopefully before I have her too far gone to fit through the doorway of the church_ , he thought with a grin. Jon didn’t know if she was pregnant or not but he figured if they kept going the way they were it would happen eventually. He couldn’t say he minded the idea of having a baby with Sansa one bit.

So, he had planned to have married her before his soon-to-be mother by law arrived, but he hadn’t managed to yet.

Sansa was hoping her brother would come though she wasn’t certain of it. He was alright with the boy coming of course. He’d never had any brothers or sisters but he liked the idea of having a little brother around. Bran could supposedly get along alright with his crutches but Sansa said he’d tire easily and then he liked to sit and hear stories. She said he was good at telling stories, too.

The other person likely coming with them wasn’t a bit welcome though. From what Sansa had told him and from the things she hadn’t bothered to say, Mr. Baelish sounded like a self-interested little fuck, a swindler and a probably pervert to boot who probably deserved a hole in his head every bit as much as Ramsey had. _And I might be more than happy to oblige him if he don’t watch himself and steer clear of us._

He hadn’t quite said those things to Sansa though. He knew she was too worried over what would happen when Judge Mormont came to town and she’d likely have his hide if he told her he’d just as soon shoot Mr. Baelish on sight as look at him.

Jon reached down and gave his Colts a casual tap. The conductor got off and soon the passengers began to disembark. Sansa reached down and grasped Jon’s hand and he gave hers a squeeze.

“I’m here with you, darling. I won’t let nobody take you from me.”

She smiled up at him before casting her anxious eyes back towards the train. A minute later she let out a yelp and went running to a boy that could only be her brother. Bran was thirteen Sansa had said and he had dark, auburn hair and a friendly smile as he let his sister embrace him. Sansa said his right leg was weak but he did alright with it and the crutches since his left leg didn’t really move at all.

Jon walked over to them just as a woman who could only be Sansa’s mama approached. She wore a dark blue dress in a widow’s style and a black hat. But under it her dark red hair was up in a bun. It wasn’t fiery the way Sansa’s was but her eyes were the same shade of blue.

“Mama,” Sansa said reaching for her mother.

“Sansa,” she said with just a moment’s hesitation before taking her daughter in her arms. “You look well. You doing alright?” she asked next.

“I’m fine, Mama. I’m doing well.”

“More than well, I’d say,” a gentleman near Mrs. Stark’s age with graying hair and a pointy little mustache and beard said as he approached them. He was dressed fancier than anyone in town ever dressed and he seemed quite pleased with himself. “You are positively glowing, sweetling,” he then said reaching out to touch Sansa’s face.

Sansa retreated out of his reach at once and came back to stand next to Jon. “Mama, this is Jon Snow. Jon, this is my mama, Catelyn Stark.”

“Hello, ma’am,” he said tipping his hat to her.

“Hello, Mr. Snow,” she said as she regarded him coolly.

_I reckon it could be worse_. “Hello, young man,” he said with a smile at Bran next who gave him a friendly grin in return and responded with the same kind of warmth he’d shown Sansa. _Well, at least there’s hope there_.

“Is that a wolf?” the boy asked looking at Ghost standing there by Jon’s side.

“Yeah, he’s a wolf. His name is Ghost. You like wolves, Bran?”

“Yeah,” the boy answered with a wistful sort of smile that reminded Jon of the day he met Sansa.

“Petyr Baelish,” the fancy-dressed gentleman said next stepping up to shake Jon’s hand.

Part of Jon honestly wanted to ignore the proffered hand and spit at the man’s feet but he liked to think his manners were a touch better than that and he didn’t want to offend Mrs. Stark or Sansa acting that way.

“Jon Snow,” he said shaking the softest hand he’d ever touched on a man…and most women he’d met.

He liked Sansa’s soft hands. He regretted that her choosing to live with him would probably mean those hands wouldn’t stay so soft. He didn’t like Baelish’s hands. It just seemed unnatural to Jon for a man’s hands to be like that.

Baelish gave a slight grimace and Jon realized he might’ve been squeezing a bit hard…more than a bit actually.

“I’ll help you with the baggage, Mr. Baelish,” Jon said next. Sansa, her mama and the boy moved on down the platform and Jon waited until they were out of earshot before he said what he wanted to say. Ghost was sitting by his side as though he wished to partake of this discussion. “When’re you heading back, Mr. Baelish?”

“Excuse me?” Baelish asked.

“Well, I appreciate you bringing Mrs. Stark and the boy out all this way but they’ll be fine here. They’re welcome for as long as they want to stay. So, when are you heading back?”

The man gave Jon a withering smirk and looked him up and down. “I know you don’t know me very well, cowboy. Now, I’m prepared to be polite despite all the trouble you’ve caused…”

“I’m not. I’m not prepared to be polite for long…not with you.”

Baelish gave a quick laugh but his eyes were cold as ice when he said, “I don’t want to be rude but what makes you think I’m leaving Sansa in your keeping? Catelyn is hoping to take her daughter back home and that’s what we will be doing.”

“ _Catelyn_ wants to take her daughter back home? Well, I’m sorry to hear that. She may find she’ll be disappointed. Sansa’s a grown woman. She can go with her mama if she likes or she can stay here.”

“I know Sansa well. She’s a dutiful girl, a daughter that listens to her mama.”

“How close are you and Mrs. Stark?” Jon asked next. He wasn’t usually the best at words but for some reason he felt like keeping this man off guard was the way to handle him.

“She’s my old, dear friend and I advise her…”

“So, you’re not her lover or her beau then?”

“Mr. Snow, that is hardly your business and…” he started to sputter.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Jon said as he spat at the man’s feet then. Baelish jumped back a foot and Ghost gave a low growl. He never had cared much for jumpy little men in fancy clothes. “Did you have nice seats on the train, Mr. Baelish?”

“What…”

“I’ll bet you had nice seats. You seem like a man that enjoys the finer things. I always liked traveling on trains but I never could afford those nice seats in the private cars or those cars where the servers come ‘round as offer you a drink. Hell, I usually didn’t even have any sort of ticket when I rode. I’d sleep on hay if I could find it or just on the floor of the freight car if that was all that was offering. But, if I had a nice seat, I think I’d enjoy riding even more. Maybe well enough to travel from Richmond to High Heart and back again.”

“Mr. Snow, you are not…”

“You’re new to town, I know. Let me show you around a bit. See Aemon’s Caskets, there?” Jon asked next, pointing it out with one hand while the other clapped down on Baelish’s shoulder. The man looked at him and nodded and Jon continued, “He makes good caskets. Well, he did but now he’s got a nephew took over since he got so old. They’re just made of pine. We ain’t got fancy caskets here in High Heart like I’ll bet some places in Richmond have. They serve their purpose, I reckon, but they’re mostly just something to hold your body until they get you in the ground…before you start stinking too bad,” Jon finished with a laugh.

“If you think I’m intimidated by a lowlife like you…”

“Aemon’s was pretty busy a few weeks ago. I’m just making a comment there…no need to look so frightened. Anyway, Aemon’s caskets serve their purpose well enough.” Jon looked around before leaning in to Mr. Baelish’s ear with his hand still clapped on the man’s shoulder holding him steady. “I don’t think I’d wanna ride all the way to Richmond in one of them though.”

Baelish had got over his temporary fright and he started trying to make his own threats. Jon looked down at Ghost and back at Mr. Baelish.

“Well, I hope you like visiting High Heart and the West. Just make sure it’s a short visit. ‘Cause one way or another, you’re getting on that train to head back East again. It don’t make no matter to me which way you travel, in a nice seat in one of them private cars…or in one of Aemon’s boxes.”

Jon tipped his hat and took what he could carry of the baggage with him before he paid a boy to see to it the rest of their luggage was delivered to the hotel. When he looked back, Mr. Baelish was still standing on the platform where he’d left him with Ghost a foot away watching him. Jon gave a whistle and the wolf came to him and, when he caught Mr. Baelish staring at them, Jon tipped his hat to him and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Mr. Baelish take the advice of Jon Snow, AKA Jon Stones?


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon gets to know Bran and Mrs. Stark. Sansa and her mother have an argument but Catelyn starts to come around. Then, High Heart holds a wedding.

High Heart had a couple of boarding houses and a low flophouse or two but Heddle’s Hotel was its only true hotel. It was certainly one of the fanciest places in town. Mrs. Stark and her son were staying in one of the largest rooms which contained its own parlour as well as two bedrooms. Mrs. Stark had called it a suite.

The hotel also contained the only true restaurant in town. It was popular with the hotel’s guests naturally enough but several of the more prominent townsfolk would frequent it as well.

Jon Snow had never set foot in Heddle’s Hotel until the train arrived yesterday but now he’d been here twice in less than 24 hours. He couldn’t say it had grown on him any so far but here he was back again.

Jon sat uneasily in the little parlour next to Bran who was writing something down and completely unconcerned by the knock-down, drag-out fight his mama and sister were having in the next room. The hollering, screeching and crying had been going on for a while now. Ghost, who Bran had insisted Jon sneak up the backstairs to their room because the boy wanted to see the wolf again, had his head cocked sideways and was watching the bedroom door like he was waiting for Sansa to burst through it at any second and say she was ready to leave. _I’m surprised it’s not happened already_.

Sansa had said this conversation might not go so well. _I guess I should’ve took her at her word there_. She was determined to get it through Catelyn Stark’s head today that she would not be accompanying her back East and that she would be making High Heart her home. Jon was pleased to hear that but he maybe didn’t realize then that her mama would take it so hard and put up such a fuss. But by the sounds of things, it seemed that Sansa was more than equal to the task when it came to fussing and arguing her point of view. _I should know_ , he thought bemusedly.

He’d been distracted on the ride to town anyway because she’d been sitting up in front of him on his horse. Her rounded backside pressed up against his groin had had all his attention for a good piece of the ride. He’d slipped a hand around front to fondle at her teats through the soft, fitted blouse she’d worn today with the split riding skirt she’d bought unexpectedly at Gage’s yesterday. They were more like britches with _really_ wide legs than a true skirt. She looked pretty in her fancy dresses but Jon had to admit he liked her awful well like this. She’d worn her hair back in a simple knot and had on a plain straw hat instead of a fancy bonnet today.

She’d let him carry on for a while with his fondling and rubbing himself against her backside and his dirty whispers in her ear and none-to-subtle suggestions that maybe the horse needed to rest for a few minutes before she had finally smacked his hand away and said ‘later.’ She’d leaned back to kiss him then though to take the sting from it.

So, Jon had behaved himself the rest of the ride and they’d arrived at the hotel on time to meet with her mother and brother. And while Jon might’ve liked the way she looked in her Western style clothes, her mama apparently did not. Mrs. Stark lit into Sansa at once asking when she’d started dressing like Calamity Jane and was she intending to start chewing tobacco next.

 _“Yes, that’s exactly my plan, Mama. Jon, lets go by Gage’s on the way home so I can get me some,”_ Sansa had sassed back without a second’s hesitation and that was that. The two women went into the next room and the hollering had begun.

“Alright now. Sorry for the delay,” Bran said as he put down his pencil at last and the small book he called his journal. “I had to jot down some ideas for a story.”

“You write stories?” Jon asked trying to take his mind of the noises in the next room. The boy nodded and Jon asked, “What kind…if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh, stories about knights and dragons and monsters and such.”

“That sounds interesting. I used to have a picture book when I was just a boy with a dragon and a knight in it. You ever share your stories?”

“Oh…just with Sansa. She’d always read to me when I was little and then we liked reading stories together. So, when I got to be around 10, I started to write some to share with her once in a while. She always wanted to know when the knight would be rescuing the fair maiden and if they’d kiss,” he said with a disgusted expression.

“Yeah, I’ll bet she did,” Jon chuckled.

“Anyway, most of ‘em I just keep for myself. It’s just stuff I like to make up to pass the time. Now you know how to play, right?”

“Yeah, I learned it a few years ago when I was working in St. Louis for a time. I’m pretty sure I still remember how all the pieces move.”

“White or black?”

“Uh…black,” Jon answered just as they heard something like glass shatter in the other room.

Bran grinned and said, “White goes first in chess.”

“Yeah…that’s fine. Whatever you like, Bran,” Jon said distractedly as he could hear Sansa’s voice on the other side of the door, loud and clear.

_“I’m living with him, Mama! Of course, I’m sleeping with him! And no, I ain’t gonna quit sleeping with him, so you can quit beating that horse to death!”_

“A dime to the winner of each game, right?” Bran said as he made his first move. Jon nodded absently. “This is gonna be easy pickings,” the boy said under his breath.

 _Wonder what the rest of the hotel thinks of this argument?_ Jon thought forlornly as something else broke and he heard Mrs. Stark break down in sobs for the third time.

_“Quit crying like that, Mama! You act like it’s the end of the world just ‘cause I’m living with the man I love.”_

_“Sansa! I am so ashamed…”_

_“Well, you should be…for shipping me out here to marry that animal! But there’s no need to be ashamed of the other part. I’m not, so why are you?”_

Jon shifted in his chair nervously and glanced at Bran. _What do you think of all this, little man?_

Jon wanted to build a bigger place for him and Sansa but first, he wanted to know if Mrs. Stark and Bran would be staying in High Heart. If so, he figured he needed to adjust his plans and add some more rooms to what he had in mind. _I reckon Tormund and I’ll be busy till spring if that’s the case. God Almighty…if they move in with us it could get_ _awfully awkward at times_. Sansa wasn’t all that quiet in the bed which he really enjoyed and he wasn’t exactly silent as the grave either.

Mr. Baelish had a room a couple of doors down and Jon wondered if he was lurking about today. He had claimed that he’d be returning East soon to see to his business ventures back in New York that he’d been neglecting since he’d been in Richmond so often the past few years ‘helping poor Catelyn.’

Since their little chat beside the train yesterday, he’d been none too eager to spend much time in Jon’s presence but he doubted they were rid of him just yet. Jon figured he could handle him, especially since he wasn’t planning on letting Sansa come to town on her own until that man was on the other side of the Mississippi. And Baelish might be a Big Bug where he was from but he didn’t seem likely to catch on to the way of things out here. He’d been in town less than a day and he’d already managed to annoy some of the townsfolks with his highfalutin airs without even realizing it.

But Mrs. Stark was another matter. She was Sansa’s mother and he didn’t want her to despise him. _Though she likely does, especially if Sansa keeps talking about sleeping with_ _me_.

Another loud screech from the other room gave Jon a jolt and Ghost let out a bark of surprise. He looked over at Bran after making his next move. “Don’t this bother you none?” he asked Bran pointing discretely at the door.

“No,” he answered. “Mama and Sansa used to argue back home. They always worked it out eventually.”

“But…your mama talked her into coming out here to marry and Sansa agreed. I don’t think she’ll find Sansa so agreeable to the things she wants now.”

Bran lifted his eyes from the chessboard and studied Jon closely then and Jon wondered how exactly a boy of 13 could make a man nearly 28 feel so uncomfortable with just a look. He liked Bran just fine. He could even foresee loving him as a brother easily enough. But there was just something about the boy that could rattle a man’s nerves a bit when he stared at him. _Lordy, if you ever tried to be a gunslinger, I reckon you could unnerve an enemy with a look alone_.

“Mama…or Mr. Baelish, I believe,” he finally said, “got their way about Sansa coming out here. Mama was a mess from the time Sansa boarded the train though. She was full of guilt and she kept telling him they’d done the wrong thing. When she got that telegraph, she was half-relieved to hear Sansa wouldn’t be marrying Mr. Bolton…but then the other stuff in it had her worked into a tizzy.”

“Oh,” Jon said.

Bran leaned over the board like he’d just remembered it was there and made a move. “Checkmate.”

 

* * *

 

She’d known this wouldn’t go well but she was prepared for that. She would stick by her guns and her man and Mama would just have to learn to live with it.

She’d been so nervous when they’d arrived yesterday. She’d worn her Sunday best and fanciest bonnet and tried to make sure her every move was executed with the grace befitting a lady. And Mama had immediately assumed that meant she was still the girl that had left Richmond on the train, who listened to her mama and only wanted to please her. _Well, I’m not that girl anymore so I guess it’s time she knew it_.

Once Jon and Mr. Baelish had caught up to them, her mother had suggested tea inside the hotel’s little restaurant. Perhaps her mother was hoping Jon would decline and leave her alone with them but he’d grasped her hand and given her a warm smile of reassurance as they left Ghost out front.

But before long, she noticed him looking more than a little unsure of himself sitting in the fancy little chairs and holding the small teacup in his hand. He looked out of place with his guns and rugged clothing in the elegant room filled with fancy dressed folks sipping tea. Mama had asked him a few pointed questions about where he was from and his family. When forced to admit that he didn’t know his daddy, Mama had not looked all that surprised and sipped her tea while Mr. Baelish sat there smirking. And they both had worn a smug expression on their faces when he dropped the little cup and spilled some tea on the table but most of it in his lap. He’d apologized and started wiping up the tea and Sansa knew he was embarrassed and uncomfortable.

It was then that Sansa had realized how little this kind of thing mattered to her anymore. Tea and fancy conversation in pretty dresses and pretending to feel things she didn’t wasn’t who she was anymore. And she’d be damned if she let anyone make her man feel like he was beneath them just because he was a bit out of place at fancy tea. _He’s had enough of being treated like dirt and I aim to let him know every single day how wonderful and worthy he is._

Mr. Baelish had been noticeably quiet in Jon’s presence but, when Jon excused himself and went out on the porch to introduce Bran to Doc Luwin who was stopping by to check on Mrs. Heddle’s new baby, him and Mama had both started filling her head with their talk about what was best for her and how she needed to get on the train and come back East with them.

Sansa had jumped up at once without so much as a ‘by your leave’ and rushed out to Jon. He didn’t know what had happened but he could tell she was upset and he wrapped those strong arms around her. It was strange but so comforting how that alone could put her at ease again instantly.

Later, she’d walked down to the mercantile with her mama so they could both purchase a few things and Ros had been in there as well. She gave Sansa a warm smile and friendly hello when she spied her. Sansa had started to reply when she could see her mother’s shocked expression that Sansa would even know, let alone speak to, a fallen woman. She saw the look Ros got then. She had realized Sansa was there with another woman, a lady, and probably figured it was her mama. Ros’s smile fell and she ducked her head to turn away from them both.

The girl Sansa had been might’ve turned around too and ignored her friend to please her mother. But she wasn’t that girl anymore. _You are worth my notice, Ros. I don’t care_ _what anyone else thinks_.

So, she’d called out brightly and asked all about Bronn while Mama stood there with her mouth agape. Sansa proceeded to introduce the two women and found that devilish little part of her enjoyed her mother’s discomfort when she was forced to shake hands with a ‘soiled dove.’

Then, Sansa had proceeded to select her split riding skirt from what Gage had in stock and watched her mother’s eyebrows retreat even farther up her forehead. _You’re the one_ _that sent me out here. Don’t be so surprised that I’ve decided it suits me_.

So, things had gone differently than Mama had planned and today there were arguing and now Mama was crying…again. That wasn’t something Sansa liked to see but it wasn’t swaying her outlook one little bit.

“Mama…please, quit crying. I’m just fine. I’m happy here and I love him.”

Her mother blew her nose and said, “I can tell you do but…honey, are you sure that he feels the same? Men can be…well, men are men. Sometimes they make you think they feel a certain way when really…”

“Mama, Jon loves me. I don’t doubt it for a second.” Sansa walked over to her mother sitting on the bed and put her arms around her. “Did you doubt Daddy’s love?”

Her mother raised her head and gave her an exasperated look. “That’s different, child. We had years to build a strong marriage but, even before I knew your father well, I knew he was a good man.”

“How is it different? Except for the fact that we’re not married yet, tell me how it’s different. Jon’s a good man, Mama. And, believe me, I know the difference between a good one and a bad one by now.” Her mother cracked a teary smile. “He fought for me. He bled for me. He killed for me. He could’ve died for me and he was willing to do so. How could I doubt his love?” Sansa stood back up and picked up the pieces of the vase that had been knocked over during their argument. “So, you ain’t gotta worry over me. You can go on home to Richmond and know that I am happy here and that I am loved.”

Her mother’s smile disappeared and she bowed her head before she said, “Sansa…we can’t go home to Richmond.”

“Why on Earth not?”

“I sold the house. Petyr helped arrange it. I sold the house and paid off the last of your daddy’s debts.”

“Oh, Mama…” Sansa said compassionately. “I’m sorry…”

Her mother shook her head and said, “No…don’t you apologize to me. I should’ve done it years ago. I was too proud to let my fine house go, the house your daddy bought for us when he first made his money. I was willing to sell my only daughter off to some stranger, the son of a man who’d been no friend to my husband, over that stupid house that hasn’t felt like a home since your daddy and Robb died. I’m so sorry and ashamed. I’m sorry for doing that to you, my girl,” she finished as she started to cry again.

 _Well, I can’t say you’re wrong there_. Still, she comforted her mother and said, “It’s alright, Mama. Things have worked out just fine in the end. But where you gonna go? Did you wanna stay here?”

“Petyr suggested Bran and I move to New York with him. I’ve not lived there since I married your daddy but I suppose it’ll be alright. And Petyr…well, he suggested we could…get married.” Her voice trailed off at the end and she looked down at the floor.

“Mama…do you _want_ to do that?” Her mother didn’t answer aloud but gave a slight shake of her head. “You don’t have to marry him. I’m not letting you sell yourself into an unhappy marriage. You can just stay here.”

“I hardly have any money after paying the debts and the train to get here. I can’t afford to stay at this hotel long. We could move to the boarding house but even then I couldn’t stay there more than a few months. I have enough to get by for a bit but…”

“We can work it out. I know we can. You won’t have to stay at no boarding house forever either. And we don’t need Mr. Baelish’s help to do so. If you’ll just trust me and Jon a little bit, you’ll see. It’s not Richmond and I know it’s probably nothing like New York but you could make a life here, a happy life. I’d like to have you and Bran here with us.”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. It’s not like I’ve got any skills to earn my keep and…Bran still needs a good doctor around.”

“Doc Luwin is a good doctor, Mama. And I’m sure there’s something you could do, even if it’s just helping me at home. Just think about it, please?”

Sansa sat back down next to her mother and held her hand. It would take time to convince her but Sansa hoped maybe she could do it. She didn’t want Mr. Baelish to be part of their lives anymore and, whatever her mother decided, she certainly wasn’t gonna start calling _him_ 'daddy.'

They headed back into the parlour. Sansa smiled at the way Jon jumped to his feet when they entered the room and she gave him a sweet and loving smile to reassure him things were alright.

“Checkmate,” Bran said to Jon before looking up at them. “Y’all made up then?”

“Yes. Are you robbing my man blind, Bran?”

“I think he owes me about fifty cents now.”

“Forty,” Jon countered at once without taking his eyes off Sansa.

“Alright, it’s forty,” Bran said.

They went downstairs to the little restaurant again and this time it was just the four of them. The unwelcome fifth was staying well out of sight for a change. _Long may it last_ , Sansa thought.

Jon had admitted in bed last night the things he’d said to Mr. Baelish. _Well, some of them_. Sansa suspected he wasn’t telling her everything but she couldn’t say she minded. She wanted him gone as much or more than Jon did.

 _“You gotta promise not to do anything rash, Jon Snow,"_ she’d said stroking his chest as she let him hold her. _“I ain’t giving you up to the hang man. They’ll have to string me up beside you if that’s what happens.”_

He’d kissed her hand and promised to behave and she hoped he’d be able to stick by his promise yet again.

 

* * *

 

 

Bronn was looking mighty nervous standing up at the front of the church when Jon and Sansa came up to greet him before the ceremony. He looked nearly as nervous as Reverend Poole except that Bronn could still crack a smile at a jest whereas the good reverend looked ready to break down and bawl. He was sweating like hellfire and eternal damnation were upon his very doorstep. _And I reckon he’d have a point there_.

The clapboard church was filled with a fair number of High Heart’s unmentionables today after all. Hobb’s Saloon had only recently completed repairs from the gunfight but he’d closed it for an hour in honor of the wedding and every last one of his doves was in attendance to watch one of their own be made into an honest woman at last.

In fact, Jon saw several women there who could only be from the other two brothels in town along with a few of the mining camp whores. They had on what they considered their finery though the Ladies' Community Organization might’ve looked askance at them. There was plenty of rouge and perfume in use and a fan in nearly every hand wafting at the hot, thick and pungent air inside and creating an artificial breeze.

Some of the women were getting on up in years and looked as wore down and ill-used by time as any woman who’d led such a hard life would look while others were pitifully young and thin, not much past their flowering. Jon shook his head and was glad it was not a life that Sansa would ever know and was glad for Ros to find some happiness at least.

Hobb, Tormund and Jon were the only other men present besides the anxious groom and reverend.

Sansa excused herself after greeting Bronn saying she’d go check and see if the bride or Shae who was serving as bridesmaid needed anything. Jon watched her walk past the reverend with her head held high and, while he was pleased that she wasn’t concerned over the man’s wry looks, it bothered him that she still refused to give the reverend a chance so they could be having a little ceremony of their own soon. _Hopefully with Mrs. Stark and Bran in attendance rather than every single whore in town_ …

He’d begged her last night in bed to let him take her on over to Tumblestone this coming week but she’d said she wanted her mama and brother there and they didn’t have a gig to take Bran in and Bran wouldn’t be up to that far a ride on horseback.

 _“We’ll work it out soon, Jon, but don’t fret over it now. I like being your woman and I’m sure I’ll get around to being your wife eventually,”_ she’d said. He’d opened his mouth to argue that he wanted that to happen as soon as possible but she’d already decided to get his minds off things by putting that clever little mouth of hers to work in other ways. _How you ever gonna get her to listen to you when you can’t tell her no or resist her none?_ he thought as she slid further on down the bed.

Jon ruminated on a solution for the issue of getting Bran and Mrs. Stark to Tumblestone. _I could borrow someone’s wagon or gig…but who has one that would be willing to loan_ _it to me?_

Then, he started thinking on the matter of what exactly he could do to earn some decent money without having to go away for work. He wanted to be able to support Sansa and her family but the best money he’d ever made involved drifting from place to place…and fighting. Sansa wouldn’t like that none. She might not mind following him around but they couldn’t expect Bran and Mrs. Stark to do that. And Sansa sure wouldn’t want him doing dangerous work like that all the time.

The back door of the church opened and Jon was surprised and pleased to see Doc Luwin walk in. He came in and sat next to Jon, wiping his brow and whispering that he was glad he wasn’t too late.

Then, the side door opened and Jon was flabbergasted to see Miss Baratheon walk in carrying her sheet music and sit down at the church’s piano. Jon hadn’t ever attended services at the church before but he knew Sansa had said Jeyne Poole usually played the piano for her daddy. He wasn’t surprised that she wasn’t in attendance. While the reverend might feel it his duty to go ahead and marry two hopeless sinners like Ros and Bronn, he probably didn’t want his daughter attending the service.

But for Miss Baratheon to be here…well, Jon doubted her mama was aware and he wondered if Sansa had something to do with it. The young lady seemed to have some independent notions of her own but he wouldn’t expect her to go against her parents’ wishes. And while Jon had seen the mayor finding his drink and other comforts at Hobb’s on more than one occasion, he doubted the man would want his daughter here either.

Jon started to feel some shame then that this was the kind of company he had to offer Sansa. Not that he really ever had all that much to offer her. He’d called Tormund and Hobb a friend prior to all the changes that had occurred in his life since Sansa came along and that was about it. And then there was the fact that he’d laid with the bride a time or two… _or three_...in the past which he still hoped Sansa never came out and directly asked about.

He started feeling low like he did when his mind ran this way and wondered how he could consider himself worthy of being her husband. But that’s right when the backdoor opened and she came rushing up to the front of the church to squeeze in between him and Doc Luwin in her pretty blue dress he’d first seen her in the day they met. She had a small bouquet of wildflowers in her hand and the happiest smile on her face as she reached over and took his hand. And Jon felt that tug and pull at his heart that he always felt around her and knew he’d do anything this side of Hell to make her happy and see that smile there always. _And if I’m what makes her happy then I guess that’s enough for me to_ _quit my worrying_.

Miss Baratheon started playing a tune and Jon leaned over to her ear and whispered, “Promise me you’ll let me marry you before too much longer?”

She grinned at him and said, “I promise.”

He raised his brows at her and said, “Really?”

“Yes, Jon. You ain’t never broke a promise to me and I won’t break mine to you.”

 

* * *

 

The ceremony passed off well enough despite Reverend Poole running on and on about the devil and temptation and the fires of Hell rather long for a wedding. He was getting more than a little long winded in truth when Tormund cleared his throat loudly and gave the man a belligerent stare. That seemed to spur things on along.

The church steps were crowded with the ladies from the saloon when Jon and Sansa emerged into the bright afternoon sunshine. Sansa still had her flowers that Ros had given her in exchange for the cameo choker necklace Sansa had loaned her for the something borrowed. The happy couple followed them out soon afterwards and Bronn looked much relieved now that the whole ordeal was over.

Ros told Sansa to get ready with a wink right before she turned around and tossed her own bouquet over her shoulder. Sansa snatched it with one hand even managing to hold on to the one she was already holding. And, when the crowd of ladies began cheering and making ribald, though good-natured comments, Sansa was certain she was blushing as red as Jon was then. She smiled at the crowd and then kissed him soundly there in front of the onlookers who whistled and clapped at that. Sansa couldn’t help but laugh at the embarrassed way he ducked his head and tugged at her hand to pull her on down the street ahead of the crowd making its way to the saloon to toast the newlyweds.

“Jon Snow…I believe I might’ve embarrassed you,” she teased as she did her best to match his hurried stride.

“Nah…well, maybe a bit,” he grinned. His face took on a pale cast in the next instant though. “Um…there’s your mama,” he said in plain fright. Sure enough, her mother and brother were walking towards the mercantile.

“Yes, there she is,” Sansa agreed. “You ain’t got to be scared of her, Jon.” Then she shouted, “Mama! Come on over here and meet Doc Luwin,” as the doctor was not so far behind them.

Sansa made the introductions for her mother and Doc Luwin asked Bran how he was doing. He offered his services to Bran and when her mama tried to decline over the fee, he told her he didn’t need any payment to take a look if maybe Bran might feel comfortable sharing a story or two with him.

“Did you tell him that, Jon?” Bran asked concernedly. “About my stories?”

“I did. I hope you don’t mind. Doc Luwin really likes to read and he’s always lamenting that it’s hard to come by good books to read here and he gets tired of reading and rereading the same things. I mentioned in the church a little while ago the kind of stories you write and he said he’d enjoy hearing them.”

“Well, I suppose that’s alright. I normally just share my stories with Sansa but I suppose I could share one with him. Dr. Pycelle was so expensive and it’d be nice to get seen for nothing more than the price of sharing a tale. Right, Mama?”

Mama didn’t answer right away. She was looking at Jon curiously and she seemed like she might start crying again for some reason. “Didn’t you hear Bran, Mama?” Sansa asked.

“Yes, I heard. That’s very nice of you, doctor.” Her mother cleared her throat and said, “And thank you…that was really kind of you to think of Bran like that, Jon. I hope it’s alright if I call you Jon.”

“Of course, ma’am,” he answered.

“Well, Bran, if you don’t mind too much, I could sure stand to hear a story now and maybe take a look at those crutches. They seem a little worse for wear,” the doctor said. Bran looked over at their mother and she nodded so he headed off to the doctor’s little office on down the street.

The rest of the wedding party was coming up fast behind them and just then Mr. Baelish came out of the mercantile. He appeared to pause and consider turning on his heel to avoid Jon but maybe he thought coming up to them in the street wouldn’t be such a bad idea what will all the witnesses around to keep Jon from up and shooting him without any cause. But just as he approached them, there was a commotion from the others.

“You! You, low-down sonofabitch! What the hell are you doing here in High Heart!” the blushing bride was shouting.

“How dare you show your face here! I ought to cut your lying throat right now, you greedy cocksucker!” her bridesmaid screamed next.

Ros and Shae were red in the face and screeching at Mr. Baelish before anyone could say ‘boo.’ Ros had Mr. Baelish by the lapels of his jacket and Shae lifted her skirts and pulled a knife from her garter to hold to his throat.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Bronn was shouting pulling Ros off him as Tormund took Shae round the waist to keep her from slitting the man’s throat right there in cold blood…or hot blood. Shae was a bit quick tempered, Sansa was learning.

“Petyr!” Mama exclaimed in horror and confusion. “What in Heaven’s name is going on?”

“This is the kind of people that you associate with now, Sansa? For shame. Think how your poor mother must feel,” Mr. Baelish said in that oily voice of his. Sansa noticed how he didn’t even meet Ros or Shae’s eyes once he’d seen them. “Catelyn, let’s get you away from this riff-raff. I have never in my life seen either of these women and I…”

“You’re a fucking liar!” Shae screamed. “You ruined my life! I had to leave New York and my family behind because of you!” She tried to pull free of Tormund’s arms and he was having a hard time holding her even though she was a foot shorter than him and probably weighed half what he did.

“You two-faced, lying, scheming bastard! You ran out on our business and left the rest of us to pay the price for your bad deals with the Ward Boss!” Ros amended. Bronn was trying to calm her down but she was not having it. “I’ve still got the goddamn scars to show for it, Petyr! You fucking coward!”

“Ladies, whoever this prick is…let’s go on in the saloon now. It’s your wedding day, Ros. Don’t you wanna celebrate? Come on, Shae,” Hobb said giving Mr. Baelish a cold stare. “Then, I reckon we can talk over the old days and decide what might need to be done later.”

Mr. Baelish looked uncharacteristically ruffled but he smoothed down his suit and scoffed at the crowd as it dispersed. “Never a dull moment out here, I suppose. What interesting company you keep, Mr. Snow. Sansa, your mother will no doubt be upset by that vulgar display. Help me see her back to the hotel.”

Sansa looked uncertainly at her mama. It was true she seemed upset. But then she noticed the way her mother’s eyes narrowed in a familiar way and the way she was looking at Mr. Baelish.

“No, Petyr. I think I’d prefer to spend a little time with Sansa this afternoon and get to know Mr. Snow a bit better. Perhaps you’d be willing to escort me to the saloon?” she asked Jon.

“Certainly, ma’am,” Jon said holding out one arm to her mama and the other arm to her. Sansa wrapped herself around his arm and leaned into him. They had started towards the saloon when Jon looked back over his shoulder at Mr. Baelish and said, “I hear there’s another train arriving Friday, Mr. Baelish. Still plenty of time to buy a ticket, I reckon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally intended to end this story shortly after Ramsey's death but I decided I needed some more time to resolve the issues of Sansa's family and Littlefinger in a satisfactory manner. So, I'll probably need to stretch this to about 14 chapters. 
> 
> And I know this chapter had no more than mentions of sexy times so I'll do my best to make it up to those of you that enjoy those parts next chapter.
> 
> Anyway, thanks to all of you that are still reading this!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon faces the judge and later his earlier wish is granted.

Jon woke with the morning sun coming in through the window and Sansa in his arms. Her hair was a tangled mess and covering half his face…not that he minded one bit. He moved closer to her and kissed her nose and she let out one of her grouchy little mumbles which he found so endearing.

As he lay there though, and before he could get too excited the way he did every morning when he woke with her beside him, the memory of what this particular day was and what it could mean for them both returned to him and he heaved a sigh. He rolled to his back, trying to still the sudden pounding of his heart. He didn’t wish to disturb her slumber any with his worries. She had enough of her own.

Her mama and Bran had moved from Heddle’s Hotel to the Cassel’s boarding house yesterday. Mr. Baelish was still at the hotel. Ever since Catelyn Stark had gone and had a drink at Hobb’s with Sansa and Jon and heard Ros and Shae share their tale of their old brothel keeper, Petyr Baelish, last week, she had been determined to cut all ties with the man. That had clearly not pleased Mr. Baelish but the man did seem to have enough sense not to press her, especially when Jon was around.

Jon had not been all that surprised at how fiery Sansa’s mother could be when she was worked up about something. He knew Sansa got that red hair of hers from her mama and suspected her temper might’ve come from there, too. Mrs. Stark had been reduced to tears over the way Shae had been offered to Mr. Baelish as payment for some debts her no-good, opium-eater of a stepfather had owed. She’d been taken from her mother and her little sister at the age of fifteen and forced into a life no girl would ever willing choose.

She’d cried at Shae’s story and held onto Sansa saying she never meant to do that to her. Sansa had reassured her it wasn’t the same thing…not exactly. Jon knew that selling a girl to a brothel keeper and arranging a marriage for her wasn’t quite the same thing but it had been done to pay off debt. And, thinking on Ramsey made him start to feel angry so he buried that thought before it could have him ready to yell at his future mother-in-law who was finally warming up to him some.

Then, Mrs. Stark had been fit to be tied when Ros told how Baelish had run out on their brothel leaving the girls to pay the price when his own debts had caused him to flee New York…right around the time Mr. Stark had died.

_“Making out the whole time like he was only there to help me and my children out of devotion and friendship and all along he was avoiding his own roguish behavior. Your mama is a fool, Sansa.”_

Of course, Sansa had argued that she wasn’t but Jon could see where Mrs. Stark might be feeling that way. Not that he’d say that out loud either.

“Hey,” he heard her voice say and he looked over to see those crystal blue eyes staring at him. “How long you been awake?”

“Just a little bit,” he answered.

“You didn’t wake me like usual,” she said with a soft smile as her hand came up and touched his face.

“I reckon I was thinking some.”

“About today?”

“Yeah.”

She pushed the hair back out of her face and his and tucked herself up closer to him. “Don’t you worry none. It’s gonna be alright.”

“Bran said he seen Mr. Baelish buying the judge dinner at the hotel when he got in town yesterday,” he said in a low voice.

“I know. He told me that, too.” She rolled to her side and started caressing his shoulder over the new scar. “Shall we just saddle the horse, whistle for Ghost and ride off then?” she asked.

“No,” he chuckled, “but thanks for offering to do that with me. I’ll face him like a man, I guess, and I wouldn’t run off and leave your family behind like that anyhow.”

“I know you wouldn’t. You’re a good man just like I keep telling everyone.”

“Well, I hope they’re listening ‘cause I heard Baelish is asking questions around town about me and the shootout.”

“He may be trying to stir up trouble for you but I think he’s barking up the wrong trees. I think Sheriff Dondarrion is on our side. I’m hoping the judge is a fair man. He was trying to talk to Mr. Lannister, too.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. He’s always scheming. Cella said her granddaddy didn’t seem all that impressed with him though. I think it’s gonna be alright. I’m more worried about my mama.”

“I am, too.”

“He won’t just let her go…or he won’t just leave her be, Jon.”

“I know.”

“Jon, I’m scared of what he…”

“Shhh,” he said pulling her into his arms for an embrace. “Y’all have been alone a long time with no good man to look after you. But you ain’t alone anymore. I’ll look after you now, all of you. Alright?”

“Alright,” she answered. “Jon…you ain’t alone anymore neither.”

“I know and I thank God every day for that.”

“Thank Ghost, too. I might never have met you without him.”

“Alright, I’ll thank Ghost, too,” he laughed. “What’d you reckon a wolf wants?”

“I don’t know. Chickens? Rabbits?”

“I know what this wolf wants,” he said then as he started stroking her arms and giving her that look.

“Then, take me, wolf. There’s still plenty of time to head to town.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Is there any evidence besides this, Beric?” Judge Mormont asked as he chewed on his cigar.

Judge Mormont was a solidly built older man. He was balding and wore a beard and he had piercing blue eyes. He sat at a plain wooden table in the church where court was held the three or four times a year that he made it to High Heart to take up matters that needed the court’s attention. In his black robe and with his stern expression, he was a forbidding figure.

“Yes, Your Honor, that’s everything,” Dondarrion said.

“Well…Mr. Snow, stand up.”

Jon stood and took a deep breath. For all Dondarrion and Sansa’s reassurances, Jon was nervous as all get out at present. Sansa had been sitting by his side on the pew and she was dressed in her pretty, green calico dress today. She’d worn her hair up in a braided bun and sat there like a demure little lady with her straw hat in her lap. He looked over at her and received a brilliant smile that warmed his heart.

“Jon Snow, after considering the evidence in this matter as presented by High Heart’s honorable sheriff, I, Jeor Mormont, Magistrate for this district, do hereby find you cleared of any wrong doing in the shooting of Ramsey Bolton…”

Jon didn’t even hear the rest because he thought his knees were going to buckle in his relief. He’d had no idea until he woke this morning how much he’d been fretting over it. And now, less than thirty minutes after they’d arrived, it was all over and he was going to walk out the door a free man with Sansa on his arm.

“Thank you, Your Honor,” he managed to say nearly feeling faint from his respite from worry as the judge banged his gavel once and the clerk scribbled away at his notes next to him.

Dondarrion came over and shook his hand. He then said he wanted to speak to him about another matter later on and Jon invited him out to his place anytime he wanted to drop in. The judge was chewing on his cigar again when Sansa came to stand next to him. Jon heard her clear her throat to get the men’s attention.

“Judge Mormont,” she said all soft and sweet. “May I ask a question?”

“Yes, Miss Stark,” the man responded smiling at her indulgently.

“Can you marry folks?” Jon’s eyes got wide and he whipped his head around to look at her and he was certain that Dondarrion and the clerk were doing the same.

“Of course, I can, miss,” Judge Mormont said with a chuckle.

“Would you marry Jon and I then?”

“Sansa,” Jon whispered. “Don’t you want your mama and Bran here?” _Oh, Lord…I probably should’ve kept my mouth shut_ , he thought as her sweet, demure look was replaced by that flash of temper he knew so well.

“Yes, and I wasn’t meaning right this minute!” she hissed at him. “I was trying to make sure he could do it and see if he would…so hush up and let the man answer me!”

“So, you two want to get married?” the judge asked with an amused look at Jon.

“Uh…yes, sir. I mean, yes, Your Honor,” Jon said. “I wanna marry her if you’d be willing to do the honors for us…at your convenience before you leave town.”

“See my clerk before you go and he’ll arrange a time for you. I gotta ride over to Tumblestone tomorrow but I’ll be back in a few days. My train don’t leave until next week. Is it alright if we hold the ceremony here in the church, miss?”

“Yes, that would be just fine, Your Honor,” Sansa said as sweet as sugar once more. “Thank you.”

“Alright then. What else have you got for me, Beric?” the judge said as Sansa and Jon spoke a quick word with the clerk and made their arrangements.

 

* * *

 

 

“Were you waiting for me to be cleared before you wanted to get married?” he said in her ear as they headed out of the church.

“No…and yes. No, ‘cause I’d marry you anyway and just tell them to fetch more rope if they’d decided to hang you.”

“Sansa, don’t talk like that.”

“And yes,” she continued so as not to argue with him now that they had a wedding to plan. “I was hoping if he was a decent sort of man that would see the truth that’s plain as day…and it is as plain as day to me that you did nothing wrong…that maybe he’d be the one to marry us and we wouldn’t have to worry about traveling to Tumblestone after all.”

Jon put his arm around her waist and was smiling so bright Sansa felt her breath getting short. “Well, I like that way of thinking. Just don’t talk no more to me about hanging or you joining me.”

She nodded and they headed off down the street. Sansa could tell that Jon was feeling light as a feather now that it was all over and done. He’d had to turn over his guns before the hearing so they were making their way towards the jail to reclaim them from Archer when he saw Mr. Baelish coming out of the bank with Mr. Lannister. Cella’s grandfather was tall and had thinning blond hair and emerald green eyes. He wasn’t warm and friendly like Cella. He reminded Sansa more of Mrs. Baratheon. _No doubt she takes after him_. He looked cold as a snow drift in the shadows of a mountain but he could be cordial when it suited him.

She wondered what Mr. Baelish was up to now. He’d tried to make trouble for Jon with the sheriff. He’d tried to make trouble for Jon with the judge. Now, he was talking in Mr. Lannister’s ear and watching her walk by with Jon. And she knew Jon’s patience was running mighty thin by now when it came to Mr. Baelish. But he wasn’t the kind of man to accept a challenge or call Jon out for a fight and Sansa feared that Jon would end up with more blood on his hands and having to possibly face Judge Mormont again.

And while Mr. Baelish might reluctantly let Sansa go, she feared he wasn’t prepared to let go of her mother. It was clear that he loved her in his own fashion…much as he loved anything beyond himself. It might have been more of a desire to possess her than anything. Regardless of whether you called it love or possessiveness though, Sansa feared for her mother trying to get herself free of her long-time ‘friend’ who thought she owed him something or maybe belonged to him.

They passed on by the bank and entered High Heart’s jail and sheriff’s office. There was a desk and two cells inside, both currently empty.

“Well, here you are again, Snow…and so quick,” Archer said with a smile. He fetched Jon’s guns out of the desk drawer and handed them over. Jon checked them and put them back in their holsters. Then, Archer had him sign in a book to show they’d been returned. “Did Beric talk to you yet?”

“Nah…he mentioned he wanted to later though. Why? What’s he want?”

“I’ll let him tell you,” Archer replied with a smile. “Y’all have a good day.”

Next, they walked down to the boarding house to spend some time with her mother and Bran. But Bran was over at Doc Luwin’s helping.

“He’s the nicest man,” her mama said. “I can’t thank you enough for introducing him to Bran, Jon. He says he likes having Bran’s help and might need an assistant to help him some and run his errands. Of course, Bran can’t really run nowhere but the doctor says his errands don’t really require too much hurrying most of the time. And those new crutches he gave Bran are so much better, Sansa. He really moves around quicker and says they’re not as uncomfortable to use. When I think of the money I wasted on that Dr. Pycelle…well, no use crying over spilled milk, I guess. Jon?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“How’d it go today?”

“It went fine, ma’am. I was cleared.”

“Oh, I’m so glad,” she said coming over to him. She looked uncertain for a minute and Sansa wondered if she was thinking of offering him her hand to shake. Instead, she hugged him. Sansa was surprised but nowhere near as surprised as Jon looked. He returned her hug and then cleared his throat and said he needed to check on his horse for a bit and went out the door in a hurry. “I’m afraid I made him uncomfortable,” her mother said.

Sansa smiled and put her arm around her mother’s waist. “Maybe a bit but I think you pleased him, too.”

She then proceeded to tell her mother about the arrangements they had made with the judge for a wedding next week which pleased her mother nearly as much as it pleased her.

 

* * *

 

 

They were finally heading back home a little past noon from town when she’d asked about stopping by the creek. Jon had not been there since the day of the shootout when he’d fortunately run into Bronn. And, he remembered the wish he had made right before he’d met up with Ramsey and his boys that day.

“Sansa,” he said as he leaned into her ear. “I’d like to take you to the creek but there’s something I’d really like to do there if no one else is around.”

She turned to look at him with an arched brow and a wicked smile. “Oh really? What would that be, Jon Snow?”

“Well, you see, that day I fought Ramsey…right before the fight actually, I made a wish. I wished that if I survived I’d get to take you to the creek and make love to you there. Of course, I’d need you to agree.”

“I like the sound of that,” she said with a sweet smile then. She leaned back into his chest and rested her head on his shoulder and he gave the horse a little kick to pick up the pace. _Lord, don’t let nobody be there, please_. “Jon…” she said as she started to give his thigh a little caress and he had to swallow a groan in order to respond.

“Yes, darling?”

“I like your wish so much that I’m afraid if someone’s there, they may just get a show.” Jon’s eyes widened as she leaned into his ear and whispered, “Cause I’m so wet at just the thought of you inside of me right now, that I’m tempted to turn around and ride you while we ride your poor horse.”

Jon let out something suspiciously close to a whine at that and spurred the horse to a gallop as Sansa’s laughed and kept teasing him with her hand.

The creek was blissfully deserted and he helped Sansa down from the horse and began kissing her before her feet were even fully on the ground. She stumbled back against the horse who gave a snort to remind them he was there. Jon sighed in frustration and started tethering the horse as Sansa took off her hat and threw it at him.

“We ain’t got no blanket,” she teased.

“Well, I was thinking…maybe in the water,” he said with a grin as he removed his hat and turned back to her.

“I ain’t been here since that day you were peeking at me.” She laughed when he started to argue that he wasn’t meaning to peek at her that day so he shut up. “That’s the only time I ever been here,” she said next as she started unbuttoning her dress. She wasn’t wearing a corset or bustle today. Just her chemise and bloomers under her clothes and Jon liked that just fine.

“I know. I didn’t know then that I’d ever be bringing you here like this,” he said removing his gloves and vest. Sansa was quiet for a minute as she pulled the dress over her head and stood before him in just her underthings. She kicked off her boots and started to remove her stockings. “Can I take those off you?” he asked.

She nodded and he went down to his knees before her and slowly rolled a stocking down one creamy thigh before doing the same by the other. He helped her step out of them and then couldn’t wait another minute to bury himself in her softness. He grasped her ass tightly and pulled her right to his face. He used his nose to part the split in her bloomers and kissed at her mound before he licked her slit and started tasting her.

“The water, Jon,” she moaned. “Take me down to the water and make love to me.”

He stood and shimmed out of his boots, shirt and britches. When he was down to his skivvies, he lifted her in his arms and started kissing her mouth and telling her how much he loved her. He carried her far out into the creek like that, making his way carefully across the creek bed until they were beneath the queen’s wreath vines and mostly hidden from view. He put her down at last in the waist-deep water and she took a step back to look at him. The midday sun was reflecting off the water even in their little cocoon inside the vines and it lit her hair up like fire. There were birds in the bushes nearby chirping some and the chuckling sound of the creek was a soothing and constant thing. But, all Jon really knew right now was Sansa.

“Was this your wish?” she said, stroking his beard with one hand. “To hide up in these vines and make love to me?”

“You’re my wish, darling,” he responded turning his head to kiss her palm. “You’re my wish and my dream and my only prayer.”

Sansa pulled her chemise over her head and threw it on the bank before wading closer. She let him pull her up in his arms before she said, “You’re mine, Jon, and I’m yours. You’re who I want now and always. I love you.”

He kissed her passionately then, tasting her sweet mouth and letting her taste his. He roughly kissed his way down her jaw and throat, hoping his whiskers wouldn’t leave any marks on that soft, ivory skin of hers. Her kissed along her collar bone while his hands grasped her waist and pulled her up against his hardness. The water might be cool but it wasn’t that cold and he was aching for her, to be inside of her. _But not yet. Let me enjoy this for as long as I can_.

He dipped his head lower to take a nipple into his mouth. He suckled and teased it with his tongue and relished the way she moaned and ran her fingers through his hair. The graze of her nails across his scalp made him shiver with anticipation. Then, Sansa run her hand down his chest and inside his skivvies pulling him out of them. She started laying kisses on his neck and shoulders as he continued tasting her lovely teats. She stroked him with one hand while the other stayed clasped in his curls, guiding him from one nipple to the other.

“Feel how wet I am for you,” she breathed in his ear. He let go of her waist and parted her bloomers again, her now soaking-wet bloomers. He slid a finger inside and groaned aloud when he felt that damp, hotness that was all Sansa and nothing to do with the creek. She sucked on his neck and kept stroking him until he gave a broken sort of sound.

“Now, darling. I need you.” He pulled one leg up around his waist and looked her in the eye, silently asking for what she was more than willing to give him. She nodded and he clutched her tightly to him with one arm as his other hand guided his cock to her entrance. He eased in slowly. She felt so tight…and so perfect. “I love you, Sansa. I love you,” he said as he held her with both hands now and started thrusting with more rhythm.

She threw her arms around his shoulders and whispered words of love and desire in his ear while he held her by her waist to make love to her. Occasionally, he’d grasp her thigh to hitch her leg up a bit higher around him but for the most part they were lost in their loving, oblivious to the passing of time as he made love to his woman, kissing each other passionately at times and playfully at others.

They both cried out at last and silenced the birds in the nearby bushes. And all the while, the creek continued its meandering flow around them. Sometimes the creek ran high after a rain and, during a dry spell, it might be no more than a trickle. But, high or low, it was constantly running off towards the southwest. It was a steady thing and it reminded Jon of the very few things you could say that about in this world. _Our love will be one of them though_.

 

* * *

 

 

“Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Lannister,” Petyr said with as much pleasantness as he could manage. The man gave him a distant smile before heading back into what had been the Bolton’s residence.

Petyr’s easy smile turned into a grimace. Nothing was going as planned. Sansa had come out here and apparently turned whore and murderess while taking up with her dirty gunslinger, a piece of scum if ever Petyr had laid eyes on one. She’d ruined his arrangements with Roose when she refused to marry the boy. Well, she had killed Roose so any arrangements were definitely beyond repair now.

The most painful and surprising part had been how quickly Catelyn had turned against him. He knew she’d regretted sending Sansa out West. _And looking back, perhaps I do_ _now as well_. But all these years of his careful guidance and influence that she’d accepted so readily as a grieving widow…all turned to ash in an instant by two worthless whores. _Of all the places on this Earth they could be…why here?_ Petyr had railed against fate that night but he was never a man to accept defeat easily.

The sheriff wouldn’t listen to him. He didn’t seem swayed by Petyr’s delicate suggestions of how profitable it could be to make a friend of someone like Mr. Baelish. And Judge Mormont seemed no cleverer than the sheriff. _Are all the people out here this ignorant? Well, I’m not so ignorant_.

He had sent a telegraph to his man, Lothor Brune, the day he’d arrived and Jon Snow had so boldly threatened him. Lothor was his most trusted enforcer. He could deal with a simple cowpoke like Snow and then help him convince Catelyn to return East with him. _Well, perhaps convincing isn’t the correct term_. One way or another though, Catelyn Stark would be getting on the train to travel back with him to New York. If her boy wanted to stay…or if they simply left him here, that would suit Petyr fine. He didn’t care much for Ned Stark’s boys anyway. But if Sansa’s man were gone, perhaps he’d take her, too. Lothor would be arriving on the next train. And Petyr was eager to have someone in his corner here in this little tumbleweed town at last.

 

* * *

 

 

They were both damp heading back from the creek and the late afternoon sun was hot on their backs. Sansa adjusted her hat. She’d already started freckling something fierce since coming out here several weeks ago and she didn’t mean to get even more freckled, though Jon said he liked them and wanted to count each one. _And we always know_ _where that will lead_ , she thought grinning to herself.

He’d made love to her twice more that long afternoon by the creek. His desire sated for the time being, he behaved himself on the ride back…not that she really cared when he didn’t. They were both thinking on their supper some since they’d not eaten since breakfast and Sansa was wondering what more they could do for her mother and brother when they both noticed the horse hitched at the post by the house.

“It’s Dondarrion,” Jon said as they rode over to the barn. The sheriff was standing by the door and gave them both a wave. “I guess he really is eager to talk.”

“I’ll take care of Beauty,” she said as Jon helped her down.

“Beauty? Who in the hell is Beauty?” he asked.

“Your horse.”

“My horse?” he said with a snort. “But…darling, it’s a he, a male horse.”

“I know that! I can tell when a horse is a male horse or a female horse, Jon Snow.”

He started chuckling and looked up at the sky before he asked, “Then, how’d you come up with Beauty?”

“I don’t know. I like it…and he is a beauty.”

“I tell you what. I’ll get you your own horse and you can call him or her whatever you like. But he’s just Horse, alright?” Jon said still laughing.

Sansa grumbled to herself and told him to go on and not keep the sheriff waiting. “You are a beauty,” she whispered to his horse as she removed the saddled and reins and rubbed him down. “How about Blackie?” The horse snorted. “Well, I’ll come up with something for you.” Ghost came around the corner silently to watch her. “Now, your name is just perfect. I won’t be messing with it.”

When she was finished in the barn, she headed to the house. She wasn’t sure what Jon and the sheriff were in there talking about for so long but they still needed their supper and she figured it was her house, too.

As she got to the house, they two men came out. “Just think about it, alright?” Dondarrion was saying.

“I will…but I don’t think I’m who you’d want.”

“You’re exactly who I want. Why in tarnation would I come out here if you weren’t who I wanted?” Sansa wasn’t sure what all this was about but Jon looked uneasy. “We’ve all got blood on our hands out here, Jon. If that’s what’s bothering you, don’t think on it too much.”

He turned to go after tipping his hat at Sansa. She waved to him as he mounted and rode off before she walked over to Jon. “Well…what was all that? What’d he want?”

Jon didn’t answer right away. He stood there plainly in shock for a moment before he turned to her and said, “He…he offered me a job.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I wanted to kill off Baelish in this chapter but didn't want it to seem too forced or rushed. Thanks for sticking with my story to all of you that are still reading. I'm hoping for a wedding and a funeral next chapter.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somebody go tell Aemon his nephew's got some work to do come morning.

They’d spent a good deal of the next few days arguing…and making love. Arguing because Jon didn’t think he should accept the job offer and Sansa couldn’t see why he wouldn’t. And making love because that seemed to be the way of things between them whenever they were both riled up about something and arguing. _Anger to passion to sex_ _and back again_.

Dondarrion had been offered a position with the U.S. Marshals and would be leaving High Heart. Archer would be going with him. There were other men that Dondarrion would deputize when he needed someone beside Archer at his back but Lem, Notch and Beardless Dick weren’t exactly the kind of men that would know all that much about being sheriff.

“What the hell do _I_ know about being sheriff?” Jon argued as he went out the door to saddle his horse a few days after Dondarrion’s visit.

Sansa was right on his heels. “You’d be good at it, Jon. I know you would. It’s decent pay and it means you’d have a job here in town and I think…”

He strode off to the barn without another word and she gave an angry huff to his back before she went to check on the chickens Tormund had given them to start them off. Sansa had taken on the care of them and keeping Ghost out of their coop was proving a bit of a battle. As expected Ghost was sitting there outside their little pen this morning watching them, slather dripping from his jaws.

“How’re they ever gonna lay us some eggs with you watching them like that all the time? I’d be a nervous wreck if I was them and had you looking at me like that constantly.”

She shooed Ghost away and went in to feed the chickens as Jon came back out of the barn and made his way towards her. He looked contrite and Sansa had a feeling she might be winning her point at last. _Good…I’m getting tired of arguing. I’m just not tired of the other part_.

“I know what you’re saying,” he said without preamble kicking at the dust with his boots and looking at the ground. “And you make a good point…you do. I just don’t feel like I’m…” He shrugged helplessly and looked up at her wanting her to say it.

“Worthy of it?” she asked. He nodded then. _This again_ , she thought with a sigh. “How many ways I gotta show you how worthy you are, Jon?” He mumbled something under his breath and was looking at his boots again. “Hey…you gonna marry me in a few days?”

“You know I am,” he said looking back at her again.

“And do you think I’m dumb?”

“Of course not!  You know I don’t! You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.” His expression was priceless. He looked shocked and angry at the very suggestion that anyone would think she was dumb. _My sweet, dear man...I love you so_.

“And, do you feel worthy of being my husband by now?” she asked next.

“Yes,” he said. “Well, sometimes no but I reckon if you think I am, I must be.” She put her hands on her hips and looked at him then waiting for him to make that leap with her. It didn’t take him all that long. He chuckled and said, “And you’re saying if I think you’re smart, I ought to listen to you…and if I’m good enough for you then I’m good enough for High Heart.”

“You’re too good for High Heart and they’ll be lucky to have you.” He took her in his arms and kissed her softly on the cheek. She sighed as she felt those warm, strong arms around her and she nuzzled her face against his neck, kissing the skin she could reach around his beard. And it wasn’t long before he was pulling her up against him letting her feel that he was hard and wanting…again. “Why’d you go saddle your horse?”

“I thought maybe I should go talk to Beric.”

“You was already gonna do it before just now?”

“Yeah…I’m tired of arguing with you and him both. But there’s one part of _our_ arguing I ain’t _ever_ gonna get tired of,” he said with that wicked little grin of his, the one that made Sansa want to give him anything in the world he asked of her.

“The horse is saddled and you should probably head on in and talk to the man,” she said teasingly.

“I will but we didn’t set no appointment or anything.”

“So, we ain’t fighting anymore?” she asked with a smile as he started kissing her neck now and finding that ticklish spot behind her ear that made her squirm.

“No, we’re making up for fighting earlier,” he said in that low, husky tone of his that made her squirm in a different way.

“That sounds nice.”

“Oh, it will be, darling. It’ll be nice as nice can be if you wanna head back in the house with me for just a little while.”

“Well, I suppose I can trust Ghost to leave my chickens alone a bit longer.” He smiled and took her by the hand leading her back inside for their making up.

 

* * *

 

 

“Try again,” he urged.

Sansa blew the stray hair that had come out of her bun out of her face and huffed at him. He knew she was getting tired of this. She was sweating in the sun and he was, too. But this was something he wanted her to keep working at a bit longer today.

“How’s this?” she asked raising the Colt.

“That’s good, darling. But don’t grip so hard. You should be resting you other hand under the butt…just cradle it.”

“You make that sound dirty, Jon Snow,” she said shooting him a sly grin.

 _You ain’t getting off that easy, my girl_. He grinned right back at her and said, “Well, I didn’t mean it to. And don’t try and distract me none. Come on now…try again.”

Sansa sighed and aimed. Right before she squeezed the trigger, she shut one eye. He could see her arms and shoulders recoil a bit from the kick. It wasn’t as powerful as a rifle but she couldn’t support it the same as a rifle either. _She’ll get used to it_.

She missed the target by a mile and he saw her head sag in defeat. “Why you want me to learn to use a pistol? I’m pretty good with a rifle…and I can shoot further with one of them anyway,” she said in frustration.

“Because I might be gone some at night as sheriff. Rifles are good but sometimes a pistol is better…and vice versa. You’re gonna live out here on the plain with me. I wanna feel like I can leave you at home from time to time without fretting over you more than what I do already.”

“But Mama and Bran will be here, too.”

“Yeah and I mean to work with them, too.” He laughed at the way her eyebrows shot up then. “Yes, your mama, too. I’ve already gave her an old pistol of mine to keep while they’re still in town. And, I’ll feel better knowing you can handle both weapons, alright?”

“Alright,” she said taking aim once more.

Jon had accepted the job as sheriff. Judge Mormont was returning to town later today and then he’d be marrying them tomorrow…and swearing in a new sheriff while he was there though he didn’t know that part yet.

Dondarrion had spoken to Mayor Baratheon and he’d raised no objections to his suggested successor. Sansa had heard from Miss Baratheon that her granddaddy had been working on convincing his son-in-law to back his son, Jaime Lannister, as sheriff. But Jaime Lannister wasn’t from High Heart and didn’t live there and Cella’s daddy thought it’d be better if the job went to someone folks knew.

There were plenty of the folks in High Heart that didn’t really know Jon either but, just as he had said, he was tired of arguing with Beric. Arguing with him wasn’t nearly as much fun as arguing with Sansa anyway. Most of the townsfolks still talked about the gunslinger and mercenary Jon Snow as someone fierce…a drifter, a loner and a hard man. He knew some of them might never come round and see him for who he was but none of that mattered if he had Sansa. And, he planned to do his best to be as a good a sheriff as he could be.

**BANG!**

The glass bottle on the post shattered into a thousand pieces and the smile on Sansa’s face could’ve lit up the darkest night. He hugged her tightly, told her she’d be a dead-eye with a pistol in no time and praised her for working hard at it…and she started wiping at her eyes.

“You alright?” he asked, not understanding her tears.

“Yes…I’m just fine,” she said with a stubborn look before handing him the pistol and heading into the house.

That night in bed though, in the dark, she rolled to him and said, “Jon…you’re not like most men. My brother taught me to use a rifle even though Mama didn’t like it. But most men wouldn’t be spending so much time trying to teach their girl to shoot.”

“Says who?” he asked as he caressed her back through her shift.

“I don’t know…just seems like most men want a girl that dresses pretty and says sweet things and sews and cooks and keeps house. That’s what Mama taught me to be and I was alright with it…for a time.”

“There’s nothing wrong with dressing pretty and saying sweet things. And the other stuff is necessary in its own way…but you’re much more than that, my darling girl.”

“More than what?”

“The day I met you…you were so beautiful. You _are_ so beautiful. But that day, you looked like one of them fancy dolls made of china that I’d seen in those pricey stores in St. Louis and Chicago with your gold and pearl earbobs and your hat and gloves just so. But when you came up and talked to me about Ghost, I realized how you’re not made of porcelain like them. You were flesh and blood and real though far too beautiful for me to look at for too long. And when you told me on our first ride together back from the creek how you’d come out here to marry a man you didn’t even know because you wanted to help your family, I saw that there was a heart of gold beneath that creamy, ivory skin of yours…and that you weren’t just something fine to look upon. But, when you killed Roose Bolton and saved my life, standing there holding Bronn’s rifle, I saw something else. I saw the steel underneath the pretty face and sweet smiles. Maybe those things are true of lots of women but you’re my woman and I can only see you. I’m so proud you’re mine and soon to be my wife.” Jon wondered if he’d run on too long or sounded like a fool until he felt her shoulders shaking in the dark. “Aww…dammit, darling…I didn’t mean to make you cry. Now I feel like a…”

“Shut up,” she whispered as he tried to brush away the tears he couldn’t quite see. “Shut up and kiss me and don’t you dare ever tell me you don’t feel worthy again. I told you there ain’t no man better than you and you just went and proved it to me once more. Now, kiss me.”

 

* * *

 

 

Hobb had a celebration planned for tonight after the wedding and swearing in. Sansa’s mother, who had started insisting that Jon call her Catelyn, and Bran would be there along with Bronn and Ros and Tormund. Ros hadn’t quit the saloon altogether but she wasn’t one of Hobb’s doves anymore. Now she helped Hobb with the serving and helped her husband with the card table.

Mr. Baelish was still in town and Sansa had been alarmed when she recognized Lothor Brune walking down the street with him. She remembered the man as one of the fellows that would turn up on their doorstep in Richmond from time to time looking battered but always smiling like he knew something she didn’t. _And no doubt he did_.  Sansa had tried to warn Jon about Brune but he had larger concerns that morning. He’d already had his first little taste of being sheriff even though Dondarrion was still in town and he wasn’t even sworn in yet.

First, Doc Luwin’s office had been broken into. The thief or thieves had stolen some of his ether and laudanum. The doctor and Dondarrion weren’t terribly surprised at the theft…there were certainly a few folks in town that might want the ether and the alcoholic tincture of opium to take for non-medicinal reasons. It was probably fortunate that Doc Luwin wasn’t at his office when it happened or he might have been harmed.

Then, Shae had apparently been in a rage the night before when she saw Mr. Baelish was still in town. She’d gone after him with a knife in his hotel room and she was currently in jail. There weren’t any witnesses to the actual attempt so it was Shae’s word against Mr. Baelish’s but she’d been in a fit when Archer hauled her out of there. Even though Mr. Baelish was a stranger in town and he hadn’t made any friends, he was well dressed and looked respectable whereas Shae was known for what she was and things didn’t look all too bright for her at present. She sat awaiting Judge Mormont to take up the attempted murder charge that Mr. Baelish had filed against her.

Jon had said he wasn’t sure he could hang her if she was found guilty…or any woman…but Dondarrion had reminded him that it would be part of the job even if he didn’t have to pull the rope personally. Sansa knew how such a thing might eat at Jon and hoped it wouldn’t sway him from his decision. He’d killed many men in his time but he’d never dealt out death and judgment in this capacity.

“What do you think, Sansa?” Mama asked breaking in on her musings.

She saw Doc Luwin and her mother staring at her with concern and she smiled at them both. She’d rode into town with Jon and went to the boarding house to get her mother’s help preparing for the wedding that was about an hour away. Bran had gone off with Jon to help him get ready at the church…and to steady Jon’s nerves a bit maybe.

“I’m sorry. My mind was wandering.”

“You feeling poorly, Miss Stark?” Doc Luwin asked with that doctor’s kind of look.

“No, I’m alright. Just a bit tired…I’ve been up late most night working on finishing my dress.”

“I’m sure it’ll look lovely,” he said to Sansa before turning his attention back to her mother. “Anyway…like I was saying, he’s a smart boy, Mrs. Stark. I think he’d do well if you’re interested.”

“Thank you, doctor. You may be right but you don’t think his legs would be a hindrance?”

“Not for a boy as determined as Bran.”

“But college and the medical school would be expensive,” Mama countered.

“True…but where there’s a will there’s a way, ma’am. Just think on it.”

“Alright,” she said rising to walk Dr. Luwin to the door. He put on his hat and told him he’d see them at the church. She came back in and looked at her daughter. “What do you think of that, Sansa?”

“It sounds like a fine idea, Mama,” she answered. “Now, can you help me finish with this lace?”

“Yes, honey.”

She’d packed the fine ivory satin and lace when she’d come West intending to work on it once she met Ramsey. And once she’d met Ramsey, she didn’t have the heart to work on the dress. _I guess that would’ve made it seem all too real…thank God we didn’t get there_.

But six days ago, she’d unpacked the untouched material and worked on it whenever she had free time. She’d started shooing Jon out of the room while she worked once it started to look like a dress the same as she’d shoo Ghost away from the hen coop. It hadn’t been easy getting it done because Jon kept coming up with reasons to come and check on her but she’d finished finally other than the last of the lace trim. She pulled it over her head and let her mother help lace her up. There was only a half mirror on the bureau but Sansa thought she’d done a good job, especially if her mother’s tears were any indication.

“Mama, will you fix my hair? With these little flowers I brought and a fancy braided bun? Jon likes that.”

“Of course, I will, my beautiful girl.”

Sansa sat at the bureau and let her mother go to work and tried to ignore her mother’s sniffles. “It’s gonna be fine, Mama,” she said at last.

“I know it is. I’m happy for you is all.”

“Oh…I thought you were feeling sad.”

“These are happy tears, girl.”

“Well, alright then,” she said with a smile. “Mama…is that the pistol Jon gave you?” she asked noticing the Colt sitting on the dresser under her mother’s best bonnet.

“Yes, it’s mine, I suppose. Jon gave it to me the other night and though his heart’s in the right place, it makes me uncomfortable having it.”

“He’s just trying to look after you.”

“I know. I’ll have to thank him for that.”

 

* * *

 

 

Bran had suggested that Jon could use a drink once everything had been arranged at the church with the judge and Jon had to concur. Much as he was looking forward to marrying Sansa, he was nervous at the prospect of the ceremony. Bronn who had already survived his trial by fire was enjoying giving Jon holy hell over the whole thing. And then Tormund arrived to give his two cents on the matter.

“You look jumpy as a maid, Snow,” Tormund laughed while slapping him heartily on the back and causing him to spill his drink.

“Dammit, Tormund. Don’t make me spill all over my new clothes right before the wedding. Sansa will have your hide and mine both. And, I already said you can’t have no whiskey, Bran. You’re too young for that and your mother seems to like me. I’m already running a risk letting you come in here with me. I don’t want to ruin it altogether.”

Bran laughed and Tormund asked when he’d become a mother hen. Bran started looking over at Bronn sitting at the faro table.

“You’re too young for cards, too, lad,” Bronn said with a grin.

“If he’s near as good at cards as he is at chess, he’ll rob you blind, Bronn,” Jon added.

“Is that so?” Bronn asked intrigued.

“Maybe I know a thing or two about cards,” Bran said mildly with a twinkle in his eye that Jon was coming to recognize as trouble. He soon switched topics though. “Jon, when you and Sansa get married today, we’ll be brothers…officially.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“Well, I feel it’s my place as your brother then to warn you that Lothor Brune being here isn’t a good thing. He was one of Mr. Baelish’s collectors…or enforcers in New York and he came to Richmond often enough for…”

“I hear what you’re saying, Bran. Sansa’s worried over him, too. But for now, we got a wedding to get to so I can finally marry your sister.”

Tormund laughed and slapped him on the back once more and Hobb said he’d be waiting for them after the dual ceremonies were done.

The church wasn’t full of people…not that Jon would’ve wanted it to be. _I’m nervous enough as it is_. Miss Baratheon had come to play piano again and Dondarrion was there along with the mayor, Judge Mormont and his clerk. Mrs. Stark would be walking with Sansa down the aisle. Ros and Bronn were there and Tormund had offered to stand up with Jon. Before his stomach had a chance to get too tied up in knots, Miss Baratheon came over to wish him well. It was then that Bran came in followed by Doc Luwin and he gave the signal to the judge that the bride was ready. Myrcella sat back down and started playing as Bran and the doctor got took a seat.

After that Jon couldn’t say he remembered much of the actual ceremony. When the door opened and Sansa glided gracefully down the aisle on her mother’s arm in the most beautiful gown Jon had ever seen, he thought he must be dreaming. The beautiful girl was about to be his wife. She was exquisite…to use the fanciest word Jon could think of to describe her. Her hair was up in that fancy braided bun with the little blue flowers in it. Her dress which he’d been so anxious to see as she worked on it…and may have peeked at once or twice while she was outside with the chickens…was even lovelier on her than it had been as just a dress. The bodice was covered in lace and clinging to the curves of her bosom as the ivory satin skirt of it swept the plain, wooden floor like a queen passing by her lowliest subjects bowing at her feet.

He shook his head a bit and reminded himself that this was real and really happening to him. Cat gave him a kiss on the cheek before moving to stand by her daughter’s side and Judge Mormont started reciting the words that would bind him to his beautiful girl for the rest of his days. He didn’t hear all the words but he made the proper responses when they were called for while staring into those blue eyes that owned his very soul. He wished he had a fancier ring to offer her but the plain gold band was what he had and she seemed delighted with it. Later, Jon and Sansa would share a laugh over the fact that Tormund had cried along with Cat and that Bran had just seemed eager for the whole thing to be over but Jon knew even as it was happening that this would be one of the happiest memories of his entire life.

Once the wedding ceremony was over, it was time for Judge Mormont to fill a different role and swear in High Heart’s new sheriff. That ceremony seemed as unreal as the first but whereas Jon had no doubts in his heart about marrying Sansa, he couldn’t say he was completely at ease with the other. _And perhaps that’s how it should be_ , he thought. _Taking on such a role and responsibility shouldn’t come too easy…not when you really care about doing a good job_. He wondered what Mance would think of all this as he stood there with his hand on the Bible and Sansa by his side as he recited the oath. _He’d probably be laughing his ass off_ , Jon decided.

 

* * *

 

 

The sun had set hours ago and the saloon was busy with folks joining in their celebration along with other folks; miners, cowboys and townspeople, finding their own merrymaking for the evening. It was loud and boisterous and it was giving Sansa a bit of a headache by now.

The judge was sitting at a table with Jon and talking over some matters while Sansa talked with Ros. Cella had come for a bit, her eyes wide at her first peek inside a saloon. She’d worked up her nerve and sang a pretty song for Sansa and Jon to dance to while Bronn played the piano but then her father had seen her back home again.

Sansa would remember this entire day fondly she knew but Jon dancing with her was probably her favorite part…right after the way he’d looked at her in the church when he saw her in her dress. He’d looked handsome in his new gingham shirt she’d made him with his badge pinned to him and she loved being held close by him as they danced. It reminded her of when he’d come to the community hall dance and he’d asked her to dance and she’d been too afraid to say yes then though she’d wanted to dance with him so badly that night. _How much has changed_ , she thought. He might not be the best dancer but she couldn’t care less about that. She liked the feel of his arms around her as they moved to the music, the smell of his skin and everything else about being held close by Jon Snow as other folks looked on without shame or fear anymore.

Bran was over at the faro table with Bronn apparently trying to learn all he could of the game and her eyes sought her mother to see what she thought of all this. She was amused to find Catelyn Stark sitting at a table full of men, some of whom looked rather rough around the edges, drinking a glass of the Akvavit Tormund had brought to toast the marriage.

Dondarrion joined Jon and the judge in their discussion but Sansa caught Jon’s eyes on her several times. She gave him an encouraging smile. _Stay where you are and don’t fret_. _You’re stuck with me till death do us part now_ , she thought with a smile. There was a train leaving early in the morning and this would be Jon’s last chance to speak to the judge and learn what he could from the man before he was gone for another three or four months. And, Dondarrion would be heading out next week to take up his new job.

Occasionally, men would come over to buy the new sheriff and the outgoing one a drink. Many would stop by to stand and talk longwindedly and Sansa could see the impatient expression growing on her new husband’s face. _Eager to get on with more pleasing activities on his wedding night…and I am, too. Ain’t they ever gonna stop talking his ears off?_

The night was dragging on longer than anticipated and Sansa had never felt so tired. She’d had a glass of Tormund’s strong brew for politeness sake but she was feeling it now and had to admit it wasn’t agreeing with her at present.

“Sansa, honey,” her mother said, coming over to her and putting a cool hand to her brow, “you’re looking poorly, child.”

“I’m feeling poorly, Mama,” Sansa answered just as she felt a sudden wave of nausea wash over her.

“Let me go and fetch Jon,” her mother said picking up her reticule and her shawl.

But Sansa couldn’t get out the door fast enough now. She jumped to her feet. “Mama…I think I’m going to be sick,” she said before fleeing out the door with her mother right behind her. She barely made it to the street before she retched near the hitching post trying to make sure not to get sick on her dress.

“Better now?” her mother asked a couple of minutes later as she stroked her back.

“A bit,” Sansa nodded weakly.

“Let’s take you to my room so you can go lay down. I’ll come back and get Jon then, alright?”

“Alright.”

They made their way down the street arm in arm. Autumn was not so far off now and though the days were still hot the evenings out on the plain were starting to turn chilly. Her mother put her shawl around Sansa’s shoulders since she’d had not had time to grab her own.

Sansa smiled to remember the night before when Jon had stoked up the fire before they went to bed because Sansa had said she was chilled. They’d both been dripping with sweat by the time their loving was done and Jon had joked that he might not go through so much wood this winter with her there to warm his bed every night.

It was quiet in town this time of night. The only noises coming from the saloon and the hotel on down the street. But as they walked on towards the boarding house, Sansa felt a different chill that didn’t seem connected to the evening breeze. _I wish we’d just fetched Jon_ , she thought as that queer feeling of being observed by unfriendly eyes ran through her, a feeling she’d not felt this keenly since Ramsey had died. _I wish Ghost were with us_. But Ghost was back at their home. _Watching my poor chickens some more, no doubt_. It wasn’t so far to the boarding house and Sansa told herself to stop her worrying.

They made their way down the cross street to the Cassels and were nearly there when Lothor Brune stepped out into the shadows into their path. Sansa and her mother both gasped.

“It’s awfully late to be out here alone, ladies,” Mr. Baelish said from behind them.

“Petyr…Sansa is ill and I’m taking her to the house. Tell your man to move out of our way,” her mother said in a firm and steely tone. _Mama, aren’t you afraid? I am_. Sansa suspected her mother’s tone was an act though when she felt her arm trembling beneath Sansa’s hand.

“We should talk, Cat.”

“Mama doesn’t want to talk to you,” Sansa said. She’d tried to sound strong like her mother but she knew it sounded more frightened than anything. Brune took a step closer and gave her a condescending smile.

“Petyr…I will only say it once more. Tell your man to move and let us by.”

“There’s a train leaving in the morning. I've got a private car booked.  I’d like for you to get on it with me, Cat. You and Bran. Sansa has made her choice to remain here. She can stay. I won’t bother her…if you’ll get on that train with me,” he said next looking at her mother. There was a threat there in his eyes that neither Sansa or her mother missed.

“My mother isn’t going anywhere with you.”

“Mr. Baelish,” Brune said in a low tone. “The train doesn’t leave till the morning. It’ll be hard to…”

“That’s why I had you pay the doctor’s office a visit, you fool,” Mr. Baelish hissed at his man. “Cat…I won’t leave you here. You deserve the very best. Not this pitiful little silver town that has nothing worthwhile to offer a lady of your rank. Don’t you want to see New York again?”

“Not with you,” her mother said in a shaky voice…though a dangerous tone all the same.

“Cat…I have loved you all my life. You must know that by now. Why do you think I’ve spent so much time…”

“I never asked for your love. I thought you were my friend…but your friendship is expensive it seems. And you never truly did me or my children any favors.”

“I really hoped you’d be more reasonable. Maybe you’ll be more agreeable if Sansa joins us,” he said as he snapped his fingers Brune. “Careful,” he said to Brune, “that little spitfire has already killed one man.”

Sansa’s scream as she felt Brune’s arms close around her was quickly cut off by the man’s hand closing over her mouth. She bit his hand and heard his curse but she could not get free of his arms. He was too strong. Her mother flew at him with a shout but Sansa saw Baelish roughly shove her to the ground right before he turned towards Sansa with a rag in his hand. He held her forcefully by the chin while Brune had her arms pinned behind her. She turned her head from side to side but couldn’t escape the two men. Her mother was shouting something but Mr. Baelish shoved the rag in her face, covering her nose and mouth. Sansa could smell something sickly sweet as she continued fighting them. And as her resistance began to falter, her last coherent thought was of Doc Luwin’s stolen ether.

 

* * *

 

 

Jon had longed to escape this celebration hours ago. _Well, the last hour anyway_ , he amended in his mind. It had been fine enough till then. Sansa seemed to be enjoying herself though he wished to have her at his side. She had been there for a time while he talked to Mormont but she’d drifted over to Ros. He knew she wanted him to feel free to talk and discuss things. _But I’d be happier with you beside me. And I’m not likely to remember everything he’s telling me anyway so it’d help to have you here to hear it, too_.

Jon was concerned over Shae’s matter but Mormont told him they’d take it up tomorrow and for him not to fret over it tonight. Beric had joined them for a round of drinks and it was then that other men decided to come over and speak and buy him drinks. He was a groom as well as the new sheriff and menfolk in High Heart knew what was proper manners on such an occasion. Jon wished they didn’t though. His head was feeling dizzy from more liquor than usual and he wanted to get Sansa home in one piece and make love to her…not spend his wedding night retching or snoring as he slept off too much whiskey.

It was near eleven and he thought of Ghost at home. _I’d almost swear I can hear his howl in my mind_. Why Ghost would be howling, Jon could not say. _Only a passing notion_. Then, he thought of taking Sansa to bed and making love to her for the first time as his wife and he immediately decided he’d had enough celebrating at Hobb’s. He stood, only a bit unsteady, and wished the judge and Beric good-night and sought out his wife.

But she was not there. Wherever he looked, she was not there…and something didn’t feel right. An old and haunted memory came over him unexpectedly of being ten-years-old and crying alone in a ramshackle shack when he’d finally accepted that she wasn’t coming back and she’d left him behind. And another old fear cropped up in his mind of arriving too late to save anyone with wooden windcatchers blowing and clacking together in the breeze that smelled of death.

He felt the blood drain from his face as fear seized him and his heart started to gallop away too fast for him to think straight. Ros came up to him and told him Sansa had looked ill and went outside with her mother a few minutes ago. Jon shoved a few well-meaning well-wishers out of his way as he broke for the door.

He heard a woman’s scream that was abruptly cut off as he left the saloon searching for his wife and mother-in-law. His heart was pounding in his ears as he raced towards that sound. He heard a woman’s shouts coming from the same area. _Lord…please don’t let me be too late this time_. He flew around the corner and down the cross street towards the boarding house.

There were two men in the street with them and Jon knew exactly who they were. Cat was on the ground and he saw Sansa collapse at Brune’s feet. _She isn’t…don’t think it_ , he told himself, knowing he would never keep his head if he completed that thought in his mind.

Jon drew his guns but he was so far away and he’d had too much to drink. If he shot Sansa or Cat, he’d blow his own head off here in the street before he attempted to live with that guilt.

Baelish had turned towards Cat as Jon drew closer, hoping for a better chance to shoot. But before Jon could get there, Cat pulled the Colt he had given her from her reticule and fired. Baelish clutched his chest and lunged towards her. Jon was close enough now to feel confident enough with both men still standing and both women on the ground. He fired at Baelish but missed though he drew the eyes of both men. His man had drawn his own gun but hesitated, no doubt trying to decide between firing at Jon or Cat. _‘Don’t_ _hesitate when it’s time to kill,_ ’ Mance would’ve said. _And that’s your funeral_ , Jon thought as he squeezed the trigger and shot Brune in the head.

He ran to Sansa not even noticing that he was crying in his fear and anguish that someone had hurt his beautiful girl…his lovely bride. His heart sang when he felt her heart beating beneath the satin and lace of her gown. She was unconscious but gratefully alive. He could smell a trace of the ether on her as he touched her face. He stood and went to Cat, helping her to her feet before they both looked down on Baelish. Cat was shaking all over and still full of fury. The man was not dead yet though his chest was awash with blood. He would be dead soon enough…but not soon enough for Catelyn Stark.

“Cat…” he whimpered, looking at her mournfully with his hand over the hole in his heart, “I have loved you…”

“I have only ever loved one man in my entire life, Petyr,” she said in a sincere and deadly tone. “Only Ned.” She waited for the words to reach him and her lip curled in satisfaction at the pain on his face as they registered. Then, she fired once more shooting Baelish in the head and causing Jon to jump in surprise. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for the gun, Jon,” she said as steady as a stone-cold killer…a hard woman. But that illusion faded as she dropped the gun and fell heavily against him.

“Come on, Cat,” he said stroking her dark red hair and trying to calm her as the shock set in. “We gotta get Sansa inside and get her looked at. I’ll send Cassel to fetch the doctor. And, I’ll need to talk to Mormont,” he finished as curious townsfolk started peeping out deciding it was maybe safe enough to see what had happened.

Jon lifted his beautiful bride up in his arms and carried her inside the boarding house and away from prying eyes. His mother-in-law blindly followed him without a backwards glance at the two dead men in the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay...Littlefucker is dead! One more chapter to go in this fic. I will miss my sweet Gunslinger and his sassy Virginia Belle so much :'(
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter starts immediately after Baelish is killed but will time jump ahead in places.

Sansa woke in a strange bed with Bran snoozing lightly nearby in a chair. _The boarding house,_ she realized and wondered why she was here. She opened and closed her eyes a few times before she decided that she was finished with sleep for now.

“Bran…” she croaked. Her throat was raw and dry.

Her brother jolted from his slumber and grasped his crutches. He looked at her concernedly but said nothing until he’d reached the pitcher and poured her a glass of water. Sansa sat up slowly and then gulped it down. Her head was aching and she felt sore. _Was I thrown from the horse?_

“Sansa…how are you feeling?” Bran asked once she’d drained the glass.

“I feel…sick,” she said in panic as she knew she was about to retch.

Bran had always been a sharp boy and he recognized her panic for what it was. He grasped a nearby basin and handed it to her right before all the water she’d just consumed came right back up.

“Doc!” Bran hollered, looking pale with fright at his sister.

Doc Luwin came stumbling in from the next room. His bowtie was removed and his collar undone. He looked like he’d been napping in Bran’s room. He looked at the bowl in Sansa’s hands and removed it and ushered Bran out of his way. He felt her forehead and then pulled a stethoscope out of his pocket and listened to her chest. He asked a few direct questions and some that Sansa couldn’t quite see the point of at the moment.

“The ether can make you sick afterwards,” he said.

 _Ether_. The word was like a lightening flash awakening Sansa’s dulled mind.

“Where’s Mama?! What happened? Mr. Baelish tried…”

“He’s dead, Sansa,” Bran said. “Mr. Baelish is dead and so is Lothor Brune. Mama is just fine. She killed Mr. Baelish…and Jon killed Brune.”

“Jon?! Where is Jon?” she cried next.

“Him and Mama are meeting with Judge Mormont. They’re working on getting this matter all cleared up.”

Sansa sank back into the pillows and sighed with relief. There was plenty of concerns and uncertainties but Jon and her mother were alive and Mr. Baelish and Brune were not. She could deal with the rest later. For now, she was just grateful that they were well.

It was not quite dawn when Jon and her mother returned. High Heart’s new sheriff was looking a bit worse for wear and her mother looked exhausted. Jon came over and kissed Sansa’s brow and asked her how she was feeling.

“I’m alright. Are you? Is Mama?”

“We’re fine,” Jon answered. “Your mother is tired and needs to lay down a bit. You feel up to coming into the parlor with me?”

Sansa nodded and let Jon lead her to the boarding house’s small sitting area where he told her all that had occurred.

Baelish’s plan had been a bit desperate but he could’ve pulled it off. He’d purchased a ticket for a private car on the train that was due to leave that morning. And with the ether and laudanum they’d stolen from Doc Luwin, they could’ve drugged her mother, keeping her insensible until he got her to New York. He hadn’t planned on Sansa being there but he was willing to take her, too. But whatever strange sickness or obsession possessed the man that would not allow him to let her mother be, he did not anticipate that Catelyn Stark might have had some plans of her own and that her son-in-law would’ve prepared her to face him with at least some hope of defending herself. She was not about to go quietly along with being drugged and carried off like a sack of potatoes…and she certainly would defend her daughter to her dying breath.

So, Mr. Baelish would be going back East on the train this morning…just not like he’d planned and he’d be going with just Brune for company. He really should’ve just listened to Jon in the first place.

Judge Mormont would be leaving on the 10 o’clock train as well. He’d already said that her mother was acting in self-defense and protecting her daughter and that Jon was not guilty of any wrong-doing either. He’d even told Jon to set Shae free once the sun was up since her accuser, who was the only witness to her so-called attack, was dead.

“Does this mean it’s all over then? No hearings or worries?” Sansa asked.

“Yes, darling. It’s over. You’re free of him and your mother is, too.” Sansa threw her arms about her husband’s neck and held him. He put his arms around her and whispered into her ear, “So…how much longer I gotta wait to make love to my wife?”

 

* * *

 

 

Doc Luwin had told Jon to take her on home once he’d released Shae, seen the judge to the train and the bodies and made doubly sure that her mother and Bran were alright. Doc had suggested that Sansa could use some rest after her eventful night so, when she first suggested stopping by the creek, Jon had refused. _Now, he’s just being stubborn_ , Sansa thought.

“He said to take you home. You were forever on me about lying down when I was healing.”

“You’d been shot…more than once! I’m fine now,” she said.

He grumbled at her unintelligently and Sansa knew arguing might not be the right way to win her point in this. He could be so obstinate when he was worried over her. She loved him for it…but right now she really wanted him to make love to her. She relaxed in his arms and leaned against his chest, letting her head rest in the crook of his neck. She sighed and told him she loved him. She got a gruff reply that he loved her, too. She smiled to herself and scooted in the saddle just a bit, pressing her rear up against him. She was pleased when she heard his stifled grunt and wiggled her rear against his groin a bit more determinedly.

“Stop that,” he said at last.

“Stop what?” she asked with wide-eyed innocence. He was already getting hard and she knew the battle was half won then.

“I know what you’re doing,” he said huffily in her ear.

“Oh, I don’t know what you could mean,” she said slyly. She looked over her shoulder and saw his grin before he put on that broody, sour look again.

“I’m trying to take care of you.”

“Well, I’m just trying to get comfortable is all. I’m sorry to bother you. Maybe when I have my own horse you’ll be glad to not have to ride with me anymore.”

“I didn’t say that,” he said, leaning forward to nip at her ear now. Sansa grinned like a cat with a mouse and arched her back, jutting her rear further back into him as she did so. She let out a slight moan as she stretched. “Ah…dammit all to hell. I’m too weak when it comes to you,” he muttered before he turned the horse towards the creek.

So, Sansa won her point at last and they’d stopped at the creek over an hour ago. It’d been time well spent in Sansa’s opinion.

“ _Ohhh_ …goddamn…my girl,” Jon cried when he sank into her for the second time with a moan.

“You like that?” she asked.

He didn’t answer at first. He rolled them suddenly causing Sansa to squeal while putting her on top. She grasped his shoulders to begin bouncing up and down his cock pulling more pitiful cries from him every time she took him fully back inside again.

“ _Mmm_ - _hmm_ ,” he uttered while watching her move over him. “I like this very much. And the blanket’s nice but I’d rather have these roots digging into my back than yours.”

Sansa had changed out of her wedding dress into her green calico dress before they’d left town. It was currently pushed up to her waist and Jon’s britches were gone though he still wore his boots. He was sitting on the soft blanket Hobb had given them as a wedding present with his knees slightly bent and Sansa astride him now.

“ _Uhhh_ …Jon,” she panted as she rocked against him, feeling a small explosion of pleasure every time his body pressed against her nub. “Don’t stop. Please, honey…don’t stop now!”

She moved her hips in time with his thrusting, chasing her peak down like it was a sack of gold waiting for her. Jon grasped her hips and ass firmly, taking over for her. He was sliding her slick cunny up and down his shaft at the speed he wanted now, faster and harder.

“So wet and sweet, my wife…” he rumbled.

The sound of their thighs slapping together, the wet sound of her taking him in again and again. Jon was grunting with every thrust while she cried his name and whimpered and moaned. _We sound like animals…and I don’t care one bit._ She’d undone the bodice of her dress and Jon had shoved aside her chemise to lick and suck at her teats, making her nipples hard and spurring her closer to that edge she was ready to fall off.

“YES!” she shouted when she got there. “Oh, yes…yes…yes,” she sobbed as the sensation rolled through her like a runaway train.

Jon followed her over the edge and cried out her name as his seed pulsed inside of her for the second time this hour. He collapsed back onto the blanket and pulled her down with him kissing her neck and sweeping her hair out of her face.

“I love you, my wife,” he said huskily.

“I love you, my husband,” she sighed as she laid her head down on his chest. She felt his arms tighten around her. His breathing was slowing down but then it got a bit shuddery. As they continued to lay there, she felt him tremble beneath her. She didn’t have to look at his face to know. She just did. “It’s alright, Jon. I’m here.”

“I know,” he said brokenly. “Sometimes it’s still hard for me to believe, is all. For one horrible moment, I thought I’d lost you last night…”

“You didn’t. You won’t.” She stayed put in his arms, letting him hold her and work through his worries in his own way. When he was still and quiet, she asked, “Is it time to go home now and make love in our bed now?”

“If you feel up to it…we’ll make love wherever you like,” he chuckled in response.

They arrived home a little later and Sansa didn’t want to admit she was tired but she was. Jon told her she was to lay down but he wanted her to come into the barn with him for just a moment. She followed him and Beauty only to find a beautiful, gray mare with intelligent, brown eyes standing in the barn. The same mare that Roose Bolton had leant her to ride.

“Jon?” she asked with a wide smile.

“Yeah, she’s yours. You can call her a wedding gift, I guess. Mr. Lannister’s gonna have some feller come into town to auction off the Bolton’s things…not that I’d want any of their things. But she’s a good horse and needs a home and spoke to him about going ahead and buying her the other day. I reckon you need a horse though I’ll miss having you pressed up against me on mine when we ride to town. I had Tormund keep her at his place the past few days to surprise you and he’d said he’d bring her over this morning.”

“Oh, Jon!” she cried hugging him before turning her attention to the horse. “I missed you, girl,” Sansa said as she ran her hand along the warm nose and then patted the side of her neck. The horse gave a soft snort and ducked her head gently, almost like a little bow. “What a lovely lady, you are!” Sansa exclaimed. “And that’s what I’m gonna call you…Lady.”

“That’s a good name, darling,” Jon said coming over to take her by the waist and kiss her cheek from behind. Beauty whickered and Jon continued, “We’ll have to be careful or we may have more than two horses to feed.”

“I can’t see any harm in that,” Sansa replied.

“Come on. We’ll let them get reacquainted and I want you to go lay down while I fix us something to eat.”

 

* * *

 

 

A month had passed since their wedding and Jon might have argued he was the happiest man in town when Sansa returned from a visit there one day to turn his world upside down yet again.

“Pregnant?!” Jon shouted, momentarily startled into overreacting.

“Yes, pregnant,” Sansa replied as she headed towards the house to put away the things she’d bought for them while she was there. Jon looked over his shoulder at Tormund sawing wood. They’d been working on the second house since the wedding, whenever time would allow. Tormund just shrugged at him and gestured for him to follow her. “Don’t tell me you’re that surprised, Jon,” she called over her shoulder.

“I’m not. Not really but still…” he said, pulling off his hat as they entered the house.

“Doc had been thinking so for a bit and so have I but he’s confident enough now to say it.” Jon looked down at the floor and then back at her, grinning all over himself as it really struck him. Sansa smiled and he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up in the air before kissing her boldly. He then grimaced and set her gingerly back down as though he might break her. “You’re happy?” she asked.

“Darling, I am delighted,” he said as he gently cupped her cheek and leaned in to kiss her yet again.

And, he was delighted. He’d never thought to have a family of his own. Before Sansa came along, he’d wondered if he’d spend all his life alone on the plain, seeking fellowship from time to time over a glass at Hobb’s and occasional comfort in the arms of women who didn’t love him. Ghost had been his only family then and he knew wolves didn’t live so long as men.

He’d never had much of a family growing up what with his mother abandoning him and not being all that nice before then even. He was a bastard and didn’t even know his father’s name. _I’ll never be like them_. For all the doubts Jon Snow had harbored over the years about himself, this was one thing he didn’t have any doubts about. _I’m going to be a daddy now and I mean to be a good one._

He wasn’t the only person to rejoice in their news. Bran had congratulated them both and said he’d be glad to be an uncle. Cat was reduced to more of her ‘happy tears’ with the news which started Sansa to sobbing, too. Sansa had got a bit weepy in general of late and, when Jon had had a private talk with Doc Luwin about this business that he knew next to nothing about it, he was told that it wasn’t uncommon.

Doc was a good man and, while he was much older and Jon might normally address questions to Bronn or Tormund or even Hobb first when it came to some things, he always went to Doc for questions of this nature. He asked about some other concerns to do with his pregnant wife in late December just as Sansa’s belly had begun to swell slightly. The questions made Jon blush to ask even talking man-to-man with Doc but he asked them nonetheless.

“And so you’re sure it’s alright to…from the…uh, back side…so to speak?” he asked with his eyes on the floor in Doc’s examination room one afternoon.

“Certainly,” Doc replied, not a bit embarrassed. _It’s like we’re discussing a cough to him_. “And she can be on top, too, as long as she says it don’t hurt and there’s no bleeding.”

“Bleeding?!”

“Jon…it’s perfectly natural to continue relations with your wife well up until her time. And you’ll find that she may very well _want_ to continue them…she may even be quite eager.”

“Yeah…I’m starting to catch on to that,” he mumbled just as Bran walked back in from the front office to keep helping Doc unload his supplies. “Oh, hey there, Bran!” he said with a feigned brightness. “You all set to start school after Christmas?”

Bran gave him a sour look. He’d not been pleased about starting school here in High Heart. He’d been hoping that his mother would let him go on learning at home but Cat had said it’d be best for him to make friends his age and stop spending all his time trying to learn cards from Bronn and Ros when he wasn’t working for Doc.

“Not especially…and if you’re going to ask Doc any more questions about bedding my sister, would you mind heading outside where I can’t hear you at least?”

Doc started chuckling and Jon muttered that he needed to head down to the jail to check on things.

He’d asked Bronn to be his deputy a while back but overall, High Heart had been pretty quiet since Baelish’s death. There were occasional fools that drank too much and liked to start shooting at the stars. There were a few hard men in town and from the mining camp that liked to get into trouble but Jon Snow had not been a man to back away from challenge or a fight in a good many years. But so far, he’d not had to kill anyone since Brune.

As a U.S. Marshal, Dondarrion had captured the remnants of the Hound’s gang at last though it turned out the Hound himself, Sandor Clegane, wasn’t even a part of it. Jon and Bronn had went along to help them round up the last near Tumblestone but, when it was time for the hangings, Jon told Bronn he was ready to head on home to Sansa. He’d seen enough hangings in his day, even wondered a time or two if he’d end up dangling at the end of a rope one day. He knew he’d probably have to do that someday as sheriff but he was grateful that he hadn’t had to so far.

Bronn still helped at Hobb’s some since there was plenty of time to fill outside of being a deputy but Ros had taken over the Faro game. She liked it and Hobb was pleased at how often the House won when Ros did the dealing. Some men might’ve been a bit distracted by her talents shuffling cards and some by her more natural allurements. Shae had left to go back East to try and seek out her family.

Tormund was still on his own at his place but he spent a good deal of time visiting Jon and Sansa and the folks in town, along with helping Jon with the new house. He was grateful that his chickens were safe from Ghost and Sansa knew she had a sympathizing ear when she’d lament to him about how difficult it was trying to keep a wolf away from her hens on a daily basis.

There’d been another change in town as well. Reverend Poole and his daughter had moved away to the East and the new reverend, Sam Tarly, was a friendly young fella that Sansa had met at the mercantile and taken a liking to at once. And, much to Jon’s surprise, she’d started saying they should start going to church on Sundays. He’d never attended any services regularly before in his life but she liked Reverend Tarly and said they should go. And of course, Jon would do whatever she liked to make her happy.

_Yep…whatever she likes._

“Right there!” she cried a few nights later, grasping his hair tightly as he softly sucked and teased her nub with lips and tongue. “Ohhh…JON!”

He climbed back up her body to kiss her mouth while she shuddered and languidly caressed her breasts. He paused to enjoy the sight of her touching herself before he kissed his way down from her mouth to them. They were larger than ripe peaches now. _More like small melons_. And, Jon could not resist them once Sansa said they weren’t as sore anymore. He licked and sucked at them and, when she began to moan, he slid his hand down between them all while continuing his licking and sucking, bringing her to a peak once more before sinking inside of her at last.

It was bitterly cold and snowing outside this night before Christmas and Sansa had said Ghost needed to be inside. Jon had tried to argue that he was a wolf and he’d be just fine but he’d known how pointless it was to argue with her when she was trying to look after him or Ghost. _Well, not completely pointless_. She’d got riled up before he conceded to her wishes and that was how Jon found himself feasting on his naked wife who was sprawled out on their bed. He’d pleasured her gladly but was still wishing Ghost would stop watching them.

“Roll over,” he told her, still trying to ignore Ghost’s red eyes on them. He didn’t like being on top of her now that he could feel the baby’s kicks. He feared hurting her or the child. She gave him an impish grin and got on her hands and knees.

“This what you wanted, Sheriff?” she asked as she shimmied her ass at him. “Have I been a bad girl? Are you going to punish me?”

 _Holy hell_. “Yes…God, yes,” he said before he playfully started spanking her ass and teasing her folds with his cock, drawing the most pitiable moans of want from his wife. “Go lay by the fire, Ghost,” he said as Ghost started growling at him. He looked over his shoulder to find those red eyes on him and wondered if his long-time friend was about to take a hunk out of his ass for spanking hers. “He ain’t listening to me,” he said to Sansa while still rubbing the head of his cock up and down her wet slit.

“Go lay down, Ghost,” Sansa said, panting with need. “He ain’t hurting me none.”

Ghost listened to Sansa at least and left them in peace. _She’s won him over completely and he does her bidding as easily as I do_.

“ _Ahhh_ …fuck, darling,” he said as he slid his cock inside her again and gave her ass another smack. A smack and then a soft caress with his hand…and a moan from Sansa every time. He raised his hand again.

Sansa gasped when he brought it down and then cried, “Harder.”

“You sure?”

Her response was muffled by the pillow she was clutching but he could see her nodding. He smacked her again, just a bit harder, and started thrusting.

“ _Mmmm_ …Jon, I like that,” she said breathily. _That makes two of us._ “Maybe I’ll do it to you sometime.”

Jon gulped. _Oh…holy hell._ “That’d be just fine with me…if you’d like it,” he grunted before picking up the pace of his thrusting, already feeling his balls tightening up with his release around the corner.

“Jon…I think I could come again. I just need you to touch me…” She didn’t have to ask twice. He snaked his hand around her hip and started teasing her nub with a quick and intent stroke. “Ahhh, dammit…right there, my man…”

“Shit, Sansa…I need you to come before I do. I wanna feel you squeezing me tight, darling.”

She didn’t get any coherent words out but he knew she was almost there. He applied his fingers to her nub deftly and she groaned loudly right before she screamed his name and cried out her release. Ghost started howling fit to wake the dead by the fire just as Jon shouted her name and peaked at last with her silken walls pumping him dry.

 

* * *

 

 

Jon and Tormund and worked through the fall and winter and a good part of the spring but the house for her mother and Bran was finally finished along with an addition to Jon and Sansa’s house.

So, his homestead had gone from a two-room house and a small barn, to two houses, each with three rooms, plus a hog pen to go with the chicken coops. They had plans to build a bigger barn over the summer, too. Tormund had even helped Jon make a crib for when the baby arrived. Mama and Bran had moved in last month.

Life in High Heart was not what Sansa might have expected when she’s first come out West from Richmond but it was something fuller and richer than ever she could’ve hoped for back then. And it didn’t require fancy dresses or a fine house or tea with the town swells to make her happy. Not remotely. If her hands were growing a bit callused and her dresses were often in need of a wash or mending, so be it. She was more than a pretty, talking doll for some rich man to show off. She had a man that loved her for who she was and respected her for all the things she could do…not just the way she looked.

_Speaking of looks though…_

Sansa Snow was getting used to the stares that came her way when she rode into town. There were still some of the townsfolk that liked to tell stories about what their good sheriff had been like not so long ago. The gunslinger, the mercenary…the hard man. And many more of them whispered that the fiery-haired siren who was the sheriff’s wife was every bit as dangerous as her husband. A jezebel that drove men insane with her beauty, leading Jon Snow and Ramsey Bolton to fight to the death in the streets of High Heart just because the wanton hussy wanted men to fight over her and she liked the smell of gunpowder. A wild and reckless woman that killed the old banker, Mr. Bolton, in a fit of passion for her gunslinger. Folks that ran their mouths like that didn’t bother Sansa any and she didn’t see herself that way anymore than she believed that hogwash those old biddies had said about Jon.

Her belly was well-rounded with child by now and her time was drawing near. Jon wouldn’t have allowed her to ride her gray mare now even if she’d tried. _Which I can’t. I’m big as a house. How would I get up on her?_

Doc had been coming out to check on her two days a week the past couple of weeks but today she’d rode to town in her mother’s gig next to Bran. She was hoping Gage would have in the soft fabric she wanted to knit a few more clothes for the baby. Jon could just bring it home with him of course…or Bran could…or her mother…but Sansa was feeling a bit cooped up being at home so much. She’d started making clothes for folks for money. Cella was her best customer as she was always wanting a pretty new dress and her daddy never said no to her. But sitting and sewing all the time got old and she asked Bran to drive her to town.

Bran did fine managing the nag that pulled the gig but Sansa’s back had been aching since breakfast and she was feeling every bump across the plain. She had started regretting the choice to come but she refused to say as much to Bran.

Her mother had taken to working for the Cassels at the boarding house some to make money for their little family and she also helped Sansa with her seamstress work at times. Jon’s work as sheriff was enough to get by on but a bit more money around didn’t hurt since her mother was determined that Bran would go to college if he wanted. There were folks that did plenty of whispering about Catelyn Stark as well. _Well…let them whisper. None of them can say she’s not a good mother_.

Bran stopped the gig and hitched the nag up to the post near Hobb’s. Sansa would always smile when she stopped there. It was where she’d met Jon and Ghost. It was where her whole life had changed though she did not know it then. Bran reached up to help her down best he could but as her feet touched the ground she gasped and then hissed.

“Sansa?” Bran asked.

“It’s nothing,” she said, rubbing at her aching back. They started off towards Gage’s when she clutched his shoulder and groaned.

“I’m getting Doc,” Bran said as she was doubled over with intense pain now.

“Get me inside someplace first.”

Bran led her to the saloon which sent Hobb into a tizzy. The women all gathered round though and sat her down asking questions about her pains except for the new girl that was put to fanning Hobb who nearly fainted when they said her time was upon her. She tried to argue that it wasn’t time yet and Ros reminded her that the baby would be making that decision no matter what her or Doc might’ve said.

“Go fetch, Jon,” she begged then. “And my mama.”

“I will, honey,” Ros said, clasping her hand. “Bronn, take her up to the empty room.”

He nodded and lifted Sansa in his arms. “Easy now, girl. I wouldn’t drop you for the world.”

She grunted with the pain now but stayed still as all she could think was, _A saloon…our baby’s gonna be born in a saloon. Well…it could be worse. I could’ve been giving birth to_ _Ramsey’s child. I’ll take bearing Jon’s child in a saloon any day of the week over that_.

 

* * *

 

 

High Heart’s newest citizen came squalling into this world a few hours later with his mother exhausted though happy and his father amazed and full of adoration and admiration for his wife and son. His grandmother was a mess of tears but joyful and Hobb proclaimed that drinks were on the house for the rest of the night…but he then said they’d be closing an hour early to allow mother and child to rest.

In the meanwhile, the boy’s uncle was busy handling the Faro table for Ros who was happily helping the young mother. That is until Cat was roused from her joy over her grandchild and recalled her duties as the mother of a fourteen-year-old boy. Bran went willingly enough with his mother all the same when it was time to go home.

 

Two days later, Jon drove his wife and child home to their place. He thought of bringing Sansa home from the dance that night so many months ago and how’d he’d wanted to keep her with him always. And now he was bringing her home yet again with their son in her arms.

He helped her down from the gig and Ghost came over to greet the new addition. Sansa let him sniff the boy’s head that had a fine, downy covering of black hair with a bit of curl to it. Ghost seemed to approve as he gave the infant a gentle lick before turning to escort Sansa and the child to the house. He may have nudged between Jon and Sansa, trying to assert his place in things. _Yeah, I know. I’d never have met her without you but she’s my wife, boy_. So, Jon skipped around to the other side to hold onto to his wife and left Ghost to walk on her other side.

“Did you decide on a name yet?” he asked as they sat down to eat a quick bite after she’d nursed the babe and put him in the crib for a bit.

“I already told you his name. It’s Jon.”

“I figured you’d wanna name him after you daddy or your brother maybe,” he said feeling flushed with embarrassment and pleasure, too.

“No…maybe if we have another boy someday. He’s gonna be Jon Snow like his daddy.”

“I guess I won’t keep arguing with you since we can’t get up to our usually activities when we argue,” he said with a grin.

“That’s right,” she said with a smile, leaning to take his hand. He pulled her hand up for a kiss before they started eating. After a bit though, Sansa said, “But once I’m healed…I sure hope you’ll argue with me some more.”

“Cause you like arguing or the other part?”

“The other part.”

“We don’t have to argue for that, you know.”

“I know that, Jon Snow,” she said laughing which was still his favorite sound in the whole wide world. “And just so you know, I want a whole house full of children.”

“Oh…alright then,” he said in a toneless voice. He started eating again and he could feel Sansa’s eyes on him. He couldn’t keep a straight face for long before he said, “I guess Tormund and me will get to work on another extension once the barn is finished.” He laughed then at her vexed expression over his teasing.

 

An extension there was in time…and another. Maybe Jon should’ve just built a bigger house from the get-go but they made it work to hold their growing family.

And for years to come, Jon would ask Sansa to put on her beautiful ivory wedding gown for him from time to time when they were alone. She always knew she’d never be keeping it on all that long when he asked for that but the love in his eyes when she’d wear it for him was more than worth the trouble of digging it out of the bottom of her chest. Sometimes he’d make love to her then and there, he’d just push the skirt up to her hips and take her. She liked that very much. But others he’d hold her close and dance with her even though there was no music to hear. He’d hum and hold his girl close and Sansa would like that even more…and then they’d get to the other part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you who have left kudos, commented, bookmarked and subscribed to this story. It has been a joy to write and share. I never imagined that a few images of Kit dressed as a gunslinger would cause me to write such a lengthy fic so thanks to all of you for sticking with this to the end :)
> 
> And to my dear husband, I'm so glad you've enjoyed this particular story so much and thank you for supporting me spending so much free time writing the past six months. It means so much more than I can adequately say to have your encouragement.


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